Do I Dare?
by starlit skyes
Summary: Ginny gets a dare to catch the attention-and more-of the arrogant git that is Draco Malfoy. She never turns down dares. But does she dare look into those darned piercing grey eyes of his...and not fall in love with him?
1. Dare Of Doom

**A/N:** I really enjoyed writing this chapter ... and there's a lot more fun coming. Hope you like it, people!

I **disclaim** everything – the characters, the song Rockstar. None of it belongs to me – except for this story. 8-)

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_They come from every state to find_

_Some dreams were meant to be declined_

_Tell the man what did you have in mind,_

_What have you come to do?_

_No turning water into wine,_

_No learning while you're in the line,_

_I'll take you to the broken sign_

_You see these lights are blue._

–**Tell Me Baby, by Red Hot Chili Peppers**

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I sprawled across the bed and pulled the large book from under my pillow, running my fingers lightly over the black leather on it. My journal.

I wrote in it whenever I could. Though the way it looked still gave me the creeps, making me think unwillingly of the dratted Riddle's diary, writing in it had helped in those crazy days when I felt a red-eyed Tom would jump out of every shadowy corner and shove large snakes up my nose.

So, I dipped my quill in ink, and began scribbling.

_Dear diairy,_

As always, the scarlet ink smudged from the rusted point of the quill. I smudged even more absently with my thumb, and went on scribbling.

I hid it only in my pillow, because I knew that if anyone ever found it – they wouldn't ever understand anything. All they would see would be a large, bold sort of cursive with only big loops distinguishable between the other scrawls. My handwriting was that beautiful, yeah.

_So... seventh year it is. I can't really believe the War is over... and old Voldy is dead. Or whatever a half human half weirdo hybrid is when that spell backfires and makes it shrink into some vile thing. I can't even believe I have the guts to call him 'Voldy' now. Voldy! Ha._

_And the nicest fact – or rather, the most irritating, concerning one particular green-eyed male called Potter, at least – is that the seventh year has double the number of students now. Because all the previous batch guys missed their year while they were busy fighting for their lives, as in the case of The Trio, or hiding out in some dark corner of the world. And so, I have classes with my adorable brother, Ron. And I was being sarcastic with that adjective._

_Today was the last day of the first week. Classes have been dead boring till now, but I guess all of us are more happy that way -last year's classes were a bit too exciting for comfort._

_I had another one of those dreams last night... With Tom – he was like, looking at me, and then he smiles... and blood starts gushing out of his nostrils, and he falls down. Presumably dead._

_The end of the War realizations, no doubt. My subconscious trying hard to make me realize it._

_I'd rather my subconscious didn't try so hard, really, but anyway._

_I hear someone coming. Not someone, more like, lots of people... They must be back from dinner. I think I can hear the voice of that wonderful witch called Drew coming, and most likely there'll be a "Who Can Grab Ginny's Evil Diary" contest soon, so, for the moment,_

_Bye._

I snapped the book shut, and shoved it under the pillow just as a horde of my schoolmates filtered in through the dormitory, chattering very merrily.

About four or five of them came in together, and I took each one in as they entered.

The loudest voice in the chatty babble was of Drew, my best friend. I spotted her spiky brown hair, with the wild purple streaks on them, as she laughed hysterically at some joke and slapped the girl next to her -who was snorting possibly at the same thing- so hard on the back that the girl choked mid-snort and winced.

I laughed at Lavender massaging her back, glowering at a still amused Drew.

In with them came Parvati, of course, with the two smaller fifth year siblings: Ruth and Reira.

"Hey guys," I greeted them enthusiastically. "You've been eating long."

"Hey, Gin!" Drew exclaimed gaily, collapsing on the corner of my bed and crossing her long legs Indian style on it. "Yep, I'm stuffed. With pecan pie." She chuckled.

"Ginny, Ginny," Ruth said eagerly claiming my attention. "We thought we'll play a good game of Truth or Dare today! You will play too, won't you?"

I hesitated. The last time we'd played this, I'd been dared to cut off Neville's fringe in his sleep. As I crept into the room, scissors in hand, appealing to the gods to make sure Neville never found out the culprit who had ruined his hairstyle – the boy, drattedly a light sleeper, woke up and screamed loudly about a Tarantula trying to dig its pincers into his brain.

That had been just wonderful. I'd fled out of the boys' dorm, but some git had switched on the lights and my tomato hair wasn't hard to recognize.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the humiliating thought.

"Sure," I said. "As long as you don't get me embarrassed to death, I'm game."

They grinned happily, and Drew brought a long bottle out from a small pocket with flair.

"Extension charm," she informed me when I raised my eyebrow. "I'm very good at it, you know."

I rolled my eyes.

The girls sat in a loose circle on their beds, and the bottle was spun on the little stool in the middle of the dorm.

The mouth pointed at Reira, with the other end on Ruth.

"Yes!" Reira enthused. "Truth or Dare, Ruth?"

"Um..." Ruth blushed a little bit. "Dare."

Reira groaned softly. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that," she complained. "I had something important to ask you."

"That's exactly why I didn't say that, Reira."

"Well, whatever," Drew said dismissively. "Reira, give her a dare."

"Okay," Reira said dully. "Ruth... go – climb that high shelf, and jump off it without making anything fall off."

Ruth grinned, and immediately stood on her bed, lithely climbing on to said shelf. "Easy as pie," she sang as she jumped off gracefully and landed on the balls of her feet.

"Gah," Reira grumbled. "I was going easy on you, is all. And you should tell your siblings everything, Ruth." She pouted, looking at her sister. "Are you, or are you not, da –"

Ruth snickered, interrupting her sister. "There're many things I _should_ do that I don't, dear sis. So shut it for now. Anyway, I think I might tell you in a while."

Reira smiled, satisfied.

Drew spun the bottle again – this time it was from herself to Parvati.

"Truth or Dare, Parvati?" Drew asked her, winking.

"Truth," Parvati answered demurely. "I don't like the silly dares you give people."

Drew rolled her eyes. "All right..." Drew raised her eyebrows playfully. "Now. You've got to tell the truth, girl. Where was the last place you and Dean kissed?"

I giggled, and slapped Drew a high five. Parvati dark skin turned a deep pink. "Um... last night... in the boy's dorm... under his bed..." she said in a small voice.

Drew snorted spectacularly. "Why _under_ the bed? You could have been _on_ it!"

"His... um, Drew, it was just... more fun that way. Under his bed. That's it." Parvati permitted herself a knowing smile. "Think about it."

"Hmmm... there couldn't have been much space in there," Drew laughed. "Maybe I get what you mean. Well, at least you were honest," Drew said decidedly.

The bottle spun again.

"Yes!" Lavender enthused. "Drew, Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," Drew answered immediately.

Lavender rubbed her hands together. "Okay... climb on top of the bed and... sing 'Rockstar' as loud as you can."

"Hah!" Drew laughed, perching on the bed. "_I'm through with standin' in line, to clubs I'd never get in..." _She sang the song by Nickelback, completely off tune – and enjoying herself thoroughly, like only Drew could be expected to do. "_I need a credit card that's got no limit, and a big black gym with a bedroom in it..."_

"_I'd trade this life for fortune and fame, I'd even cut my hair and change my name..."_ Drew flung about her hands as though she was proclaiming something, making Lavender snort into her pillow.

"_Hey, hey, I wanna be a rockstar..."_ Drew finished smugly. "How's that, pumpkin?"

"Just wonderful," Lavender said sarcastically.

Next was me and Ruth.

"Truth..." I said decidedly, before she could ask.

"Which was the most embarrassing date you ever had, and with who was it?"

"Michael," I answered immediately. "He ordered this strawberry thing, and when Rosmerta's new assistant brought it, she dropped the pink whipped cream on his hair. That was..." I sighed. "Beautiful."

And so, it went on...

It had been great that the seventh years didn't have 'bedtimes'. It gave time, obviously, for a lot more fun.

This time, the bottle spun, the mouth on Drew... and the other end on me.

"Ah!" Drew said enthusiastically. "I've been wanting to getcha!"

I rolled my eyes, but was immediately wary. "Alright. I choose... Dare."

"Yay!" Drew whooped suddenly. "Yay, yay!" She punched one fist into the other palm.

"What?" I asked, mildly irritated, and... wary. There was good reason to be wary when my friend got like this.

And her dare proved this to me even more.

"Ginny Weasley," she said in a mock solemn voice, raising her arms in a way that reminded me of Morpheus in Matrix. "I dare you to..." She paused. "Are you sure, Ginny? This dare can _change your life_." She gave me a faux concerned look.

"I'm sure," I said, miffed. "I'm not scared of a _dare._" It was rather childish, but I'd taken a vow when I was seven I'd never turn down a good dare.

A Weasley - especially the youngest, most intelligent one - didn't break vows.

"You asked for it," Drew said, grinning. "Okay. Ginny Weasley," she said again in a bogusly deep voice.

"I dare you to...date -"

Not another one. I groaned internally. And then I saw the gleam in Drew's eyes, and the conspiratorial glance she gave Lavender, and got suspicious. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Before I could realize what she'd said, there was a loud chorus of "Ooooooh!"'s around the dorm, and Reira shouted, "Go Ginny!", and I heard a loud giggle that sounded like Reira.

"_What?!_" I exclaimed heatedly. "Date _who?_"

"Draco Malfoy, Gin." Drew said coolly, her blue eyes shining with mischief. "You know the guy..."

"The beautiful one, the hot one," Lavender contributed to her sentence.

"The brilliant one... the rich one." Ruth added.

"_I_ don't think he's hot," Parvati disagreed.

"Nor do I," I seconded her quickly, but everyone ignored her.

"Ginny, have you _looked_ at him?" Drew demanded vitally.

"No," I said, wrinkling my nose. "And I don't want to." That wasn't entirely true... anyway.

"Ginny! The boy is _gorgeous!_" Lavender said in a horrified voice. "He is nectar to the eye."

"Honestly, people," I said hotly. "He is _Draco Bloody Malfoy,_ for Merlin's sake."

"Exactly," Drew agreed with a satisfied smile. "He's Draco Bloody Malfoy. I'm glad to see you've started to catch up."

"Listen guys," I said, now desperate. "First of all – I don't _like_ him. Secondly, he is a _Slyth._ Third reason – he doesn't _date._" I stated my arguments. "And I think he might be _gay._"

"No, he's not," Lavender said, giggling. "I know that for a fact." She looked at Drew with a knowing wink.

"Ginny," Drew said, grinning broadly. "There are _hundreds_ of girls after him. But I have reason to believe that if _you_ can't make him fall for you, _no one_ can."

"That's right!" I said. "So no one can!"

"Ginny," Lavender said, slightly irritated. "you _dumped_ Harry Potter."

"So?"

Everyone looked at me like I was missing something as obvious as the pimple on Ron's nose.

"Harry, my dear friend, is the most wanted guy in the school. The _most wanted_, except for one person."

"Draco Malfoy," Lavender finished smugly.

"No," I moaned, shaking my head. "Tell me you're kidding. This can't _be._ Tell me you're kidding."

"I'm kidding," Drew said immediately.

"You _are?_" I gasped, relieved.

"Of course not," Drew said coolly. "I only said that cos you asked me to, Gin. S'what friends are for, right?"

"No!" I said, clenching my teeth and squeezing my eyes. "_No,_ Drew. Not _Malfoy!"_

"Yes Malfoy," Lavender corrected, her face smug at my reaction.

"Scared, 'Red'? Scared you'll _lose?"_ Drew asked, grinning wickedly.

Damn the fact that I'd known Drew for five years, and that she knew every single trait and weakness of mine. Even as a seventeen year old, it was kind of pathetic that something so childish would get to me. But...

"Not _scared!"_ I protested angrily. "Just disgusted!"

"Right," Reira said, rolling her eyes. "You can do it, Gin. And once you _have, _you'll love it – because Draco is..." She sighed, shaking her head as if there were no words. "And we'll have fun watching you... and being jealous."

"Oh, yeah!" I said sarcastically. "He's gonna be a piece of cake. Get him? I could do it in my sleep."

"Oh, no, no!" Lavender laughed, shaking her head condescendingly.

I turned to look at Parvati, who was sitting with her arms tightly crossed across her chest and a disapproving expression on her face, gave her a pleading "save my soul!" glance. She shrugged, giving me a "it's your ass" glance, and I hopelessly looked back at Lavender, raising my eyebrows questioningly.

"Draco Malfoy is... frigid, and arrogant, and he hardly talks to anyone. He's like... an unattainable star," Lavender explained, her eyes misting up. "It's gonna be tough, Ginny. And so... you're _dared_ to do it. Do you dare?"

I looked at them miserably. "Why are you doing this to

"'Cos it's going to be _fun,_ Ginny," Drew said, beaming. Clearly, she saw an acceptance in my expression.

Maybe she saw right. It sounded like... a good challenge, I had to admit. And I liked challenges.

I swallowed. "Okay, you morons. I'll... try. I don't give up on a dare." I cleared my throat. "But... no sabotage, no teasing, no gossip. Got it?"

I was digging my own grave... practically. But I could always forfeit, right?

Well, 'forfeit' was a word that made me gag, but anyway. It was _possible._

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Drew sang. She leaned over, and pulled a braid of my long red hair. "We're in business!"

"But do tell me something honestly, Drew," I said more seriously. "_Why_ are you doing this? Because I know there's _something_."

She looked a little sheepish. "Okay. Guess you know me well." She ran a hand through her spiky hair as she spoke. "You know Zacharias Smith? Well, he's gay, as you know. And he was trying to woo Draco – and obviously, the Slyth turned him down. That's how I know Draco's not a queer," she added. "He told Smith _very_ clearly." She chuckled. "Well, anyway, it came to a point where Smith told me with that awful, hoity-toity look of his, that there was _no one_ who could make the Malfoy fall for them... and I wanted to prove the jerk wrong. So I thought of _you."_ She grinned.

"So this is some stupid, juvenile thing about proving Smith _wrong??"_ I asked incredulously, shaking my head in disbelief.

Drew shrugged, and Ruth giggled at my expression. "I'm juvenile," she said matter-of-factly. "So my intents... are juvenile. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Okay," I said, my tone a bit weary. "I'm tired... And you have made me mad over your stupid intents and dares. _I'm_ going to sleep." I fell back on my pillow. "_Goodnight_."

"Sleep tight, Ginny..." Ruth and Reira muttered together.

"Don't let the four-poster bugs bite!" Drew added.

I ignored them. I knew it when they offed the lights, because the reddish glow faded from behind my eyelids and all was black.

I was asleep in a while.

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When I woke up, it was pretty early, and all the others were sleeping. I washed quickly, and pulled on my robes.

I examined myself critically in the mirror as I brushed my long, wavy hair – and pretty much liked what I saw. My pale, creamy white skin glowed a light pink on my cheeks. My eyes, a deep, golden brown color, like honey, were bright and sparkly. I never had to do anything much to my lips – they were a natural crimson, full and soft looking. I did my hair quickly – pulling the front bit back into a barrette, and leaving the rest to flow down my back in bouncy waves that gleamed a coppery red in the sunlight.

And then I realized that I was trying to look good for my _dare._ Pathetic.

I stomped out of the common room, thinking of some way to get this over and done with quickly without much effort.

On the way to the Great Hall, I walked straight into a tall someone – not surprising, really, because I was hardly paying attention to where I was going.

"Please watch it, Weasley," a low, attractive voice said. "If you can."

I looked up – whoever it was sure was tall – and saw a pale, chiseled face, surrounded by glimmering white blond hair, with wide, piercing grey eyes looking at me.

Oh, wonderful. I'd run into Draco Malfoy by _accident_.

My sarcasm was understandable... but the heat on my face and the pounding of my heart wasn't.

Surprise, that was all, I decided. I hadn't expected to see him right now. I blushed very easily, that was an accepted fact. And some sort of irony, that I had walked right _into_ him, as if this whole thing was foreordained, or something.

And then I realized I was staring after him – he had walked away many moments ago.

I hated to admit it, but... that guy _was_... good-looking.

I shook my head, and walked to the Great Hall, hoping I wouldn't be driven mad by all this... all this looking after stupid, arrogant boys.

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**A/N:** So how is it? I know it's a common plot. :( I didn't realize that when the plot bunny attacked, so anyway, I'm striving for originality here. Tell me how I did, 'kay?

~starlit skyes~


	2. Realization of Hotness!

**A/N:** I sort of had trouble with this chapter ... Had to re-write it three times. :-/ But on the whole, I'm pretty happy with it. And a special thanks to all the people that reviewed! 8-)

Oh, and this song is amazing, so if you have not heard it, you should.

I **disclaim**.

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_He was a hard-headed man,_

_He was brutally handsome, _

_and she was terminally pretty._

_She held him up, and he held her for ransom in the heart_

_of the cold, cold city..._

– **Life In The Fast Lane, by the Eagles**

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I was still really incredulous as I walked to the Great Hall. Incredulous that the blush still hadn't faded from my cheeks; that I kept looking behind my shoulder instinctively in a...(gulp) _hope_ that he would be there... and incredulous that his face was swimming in my mind – the pale skin... The chiseled features – the straight square of his chin, with the little hint of a cleft, the hollow cheeks with the high cheekbones cutting into his face sharply; the full, dark lips. And the _eyes – _wide, the irises a brilliant, piercing, stormy grey, fringed by long, pale lashes.

When I finally got to the hall without doing anything stupid, my eyes instinctively ran across the tables. Good, Harry wasn't up yet. It was so awkward being around him. I don't think... he'd gotten over me, even if I'd told him things couldn't work out between us, ever.

My eyes also glazed across the Slytherin table as I sat at my regular seat. The only people there were Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle sitting very close together and feeding bits of toast to each other (gag), some warty looking guy I didn't remember seeing before, and Blaise Zabini – looking pretty cute, actually.

I examined Blaise appraisingly as I buttered my toast. Tall, swarthy... kind of playful looking. Why couldn't I have been dared to do _him?_ He was extremely annoying in his own way, of course, but there was _reasoning_ with him.

But somehow, that idea didn't interest me. Didn't seem as much of a challenge... Just wasn't as _fascinating._

Oh, great, I thought Malfoy was _fascinating._

"Morning!" a familiar laughing voice said from my right. "What's up?"

I looked at Drew, unsmiling, and looked pointedly at the cloudy ceiling as she took the seat next to me.

She chuckled. "I meant _beside_ the ceiling... Are you thinking strategy?"

"What strategy?" I questioned artlessly.

"Strategy about your 'lil dare, idiot."

"Strategy!?" I scowled, disgruntled. "I'm not planning _anything! _No effort, no nothing." I folded my arms tightly across my chest. "I never flirt, and I'm not going to do it now." I gritted my teeth.

"Flirting's not gonna work, Ginny!" she laughed, taking a swig at her orange juice and then dipping a bit of toast in it – at which I wrinkled my nose. "You think if Pug-face Parkinson's flirting didn't work, _your_ inexperienced courting is gonna work?"

I looked at the noxious blonde at the Slyth table. "Hmm... Guess not." She had a point.

"If anything works, it'll just be...well, being _you._" She mused, that wicked glint in her bright blue eyes.

"Of course I'll be me." I huffed. "I'm not wasting any _efforts_ on Draco Malfoy. If that doesn't work, then..." I gulped. "I give up. That's it." I tried to shrug nonchalantly.

She wasn't fooled. "You feisty grrrl, you!" She teased, her eyes dancing as I got up from the table, rolling _my_ eyes. "Seeya at Potions."

"_Sure._" I stomped out the Great Hall, deciding I _would_ be feisty. And it was like she was out to annoy me these days, really. She was a nut.

When I heaved aside the large, heavy iron door leading to the underground Potions' dungeon, the place was only about half full. Drew waved cheerfully at me, and I gratefully took the seat next to her, for now at least not disgruntled.

"Ginny," she said urgently, as soon as I sank onto the chair. "Look there."

I searched the heads in the direction she was pointing at. "What?"

"_Draco,_ Ginny! _Look_ at him! He's there!"

Though I didn't really want to, half-afraid that I might feel excited at seeing him again, I looked in the direction of her eager gaze.

He sat back in his seat, looking haughtily relaxed and a bit bored. His white blond hair was done is a casual ponytail, that hung just above his muscular looking shoulders, leaving little silver strands to frame his, well... _bewitching_ face.

How come I'd never noticed him before? I found myself chastising myself that I hadn't made better use of the last few years.

"_Well?_ What are you gonna say about _that?_"

"He's nice-looking, Drew." I admitted, struggling to make the comment a little less conspicuous and be honest at the same time, looking away from him before I did anything _really_ stupid. Like walking to him and touching his face.

Drew snorted. "Hah. _Nice-looking._" Her expression was a little annoyed, incredulous... and awed as she glanced back at Malfoy. "Really, Gin."

I frowned at her, and looked away, staring straight ahead.

Just then, the wonderful man named Severus Snape stormed into the dungeon with that way he had, his cloak flying behind him like a cape.

"Shut all of your books, we have a practical class today." He said crisply, shaking his head to get the curtain of silky black hair from his eyes, his bone white skin seeming to glow faintly in the dim light of this dungeon.

I heard Hermione sigh wistfully from behind me. "Ooh... _what_ a _voice._" and Lavender's giggle in assent.

Most of the girls thought Snape was _enthralling._ Most of them, except for me... well, I thought he was sort of intriguing, too, but I couldn't _crush_ on him, like Hermione largely did. That was probably because he always picked on me. I was kind of intrigued by him... the way you could find you couldn't take your eyes off a large spider scuttling up a wall. Fascinated, but in a slightly repulsive way.

"Now." Snape clapped his long, slender hands, and rubbed them together, his inky eyes gleaming. "Being a supposedly _senior_ class," His tone suggested that he didn't exactly agree with the statement. "I have decided that it is time for you to attempt..."

He turned to the blackboard behind him, and flourished his long black wand at it. In his loopy, cramped, spidery sort of writing came the words – 'Addicere Liquidus'.

"The Addicere Liquidus is the potion of _addiction_." His voice got all low and ominous as he said the last word. "It can make the drinker irresistibly addicted to whatever the brewer wishes. Anything – from chocolate, to a certain person."

"The potion is incredibly complex, but if one has the aesthetic sense, one can appreciate the compelling, seductive fumes the liquid emits; the sultry, sensual aura of its preparation..." His voice enunciated every syllable of the words silkily, making Hermione sigh again, as he sauntered up the aisles. "If only one could appreciate it, the making of liquids can captivate all senses, enthrall all thoughts..."

I remembered him saying something like that before... And it was like he was in love with his 'liquids'.

Then I guffawed loudly at the pun in the thought. He glanced icily at me, and then away, like I wasn't worth scolding.

"So," He finished briskly, snapping out of his glazed over reverie. "This will take two weeks to stew; three weeks in all to be complete."

There were a few gasps there, and I felt kind of pained.

"I have decided that I will sort you in pairs of my choice, and you can work on the first stage today." He smirked, his eyes suddenly on me. "So please do not entertain any hopes of partnering a person you may be... _interested_ in."

I rolled my eyes. Obviously, he still didn't know that I no longer drooled over Harry.

"Miss Brown, you can partner Nott." He pointed with a long, bony finger at the seat next to Theodore Nott. Lavender scurried to the seat, throwing a brief glower at the dark, brooding boy.

"Granger – Be seated next to Miss Parkinson." I heard Pansy groan magnificently, but of course Snape ignored her. Hermione went immediately to the alloted seat, eager to please.

"Miss Moreno, please occupy the seat next to Mr. Zabini." Drew winked at me and went off.

I noticed that there was a bit of a pattern in his pairing. It was mostly the person diagonally opposite to anyone. Guess he did not want to waste much of his creativity there. And that would mean _my_ partner was...

"Miss Weasley," He said in a slightly mocking voice, his sparkling black eyes on me again. "You can partner Pott – _aah._" He sneered. "I don't think so." He shot a pointed glance at me annoyed expression and Harry's eager, flushed face. And then he looked away, still smirking, until... his eyes fell on a certain beautiful, silver-haired person.

Oh, _joy._

"Draco, would you mind suffering Miss Weasley for three weeks?" He asked politely, that mocking glint in his coal black eyes.

Malfoy shrugged non-commitally, rolling his eyes.

Well, that was encouraging.

Gritting my teeth, I went and sat in _the seat, _feeling much too aware of Draco lounging casually on his chair, completely ignoring me.

He was leaning forward, his hands clasped on the desk, looking straight ahead. When I turned to see him, my cheeks heated up again, and I looked at his sculpted face... The chiseled, angular features, the blond hair gleaming silver in the mild sunlight...

Oh, he was _completely ignoring _me. I opposed to that way more than I should.

"Hello, Draco," I said politely, my tone a little miffed, though.

His fair head slowly turned toward me. I found myself holding my breath for when his eyes would meet mine...

His face was incredulous, slightly disdainful. The wide, piercing grey eyes looked at me shrewdly, his dark lips pressed together.

"It's _Malfoy_ to you, Weasley," he slowly, as if he were talking to someone mentally retarded. "But _sir_ is fine, as well."

Had his voice always been like that? Soft, muted, velvet smooth? _...Sexy?_

I gathered my thoughts as quickly as I could. "Oops, _sorry!_" I said sarcastically. "Would _Your Highness_ do?"

"Perfect." he smirked slightly, his eyes still sort of tight. "But I can't be bothered to remind you, so don't forget."

I snorted. "I'm overjoyed to see you, too, _Malfoy._"

He stared penetratingly at me for a moment more, his glowing silver eyes narrowed. And then he looked back forward, with an air like it wasn't worth it to look at me anymore.

I heard a chuckle from behind me, a finger poking my back. I turned and glared at Drew, half-wishing she wasn't in the seat somewhere behind me. "_What?"_

She just tee-heed, throwing a pointed glance at the detached-looking Draco. "Have fun, Gin." She stage-whispered.

And then a husky, pleasant voice from next to her spoke to me. "Hey, little Weasel..."

I looked at the hugely smirking, handsome face of Blaise right behind me. "_Hi_, Blaise." My voice was acerbic – the aftermath of the little conversation with Malfoy.

"Aw... don't be like that, Ginny-gin-gin." He chuckled while I flushed angrily at the idiotic nickname. Blaise's eyes moved down my body, hovering very obviously at my bust. "It's..._ really_ great to see you."

"Likewise," I said sarcastically, turning away. "I wish you luck, Drew."

"So do I," she laughed significantly.

"... Only _one_ porcupine quill, do keep in mind. I don't have the patience to rescue your worthless lives if you put more..." Snape was saying blackly, pointing vaguely with a bony finger at the instructions that had come on the black board.

I stared at the writing on the board.

_Add one porcupine quill to the cauldron, and two drops of its blood to it, allow to soak the quill. Pour exactly three palm-fulls of Essence of Insanity, and wait for the purple bubbles to arise. Do _not_ wait until the bubbles turn pink. Once that has been achieved, add a trickle of Unicorn blood, and simmer under a blue flame for exactly three minutes. The porcupine quill and blood are for the little bitter-sweetness, the Insanity for the proper obsession, the unconditionalness, and the silver Unicorn Blood for the beauty._

It could have been written in pig Latin – I might have understood it better then. I sucked at Potions, I really did. All the bubble and trickle thing really made me see _blank_.

I glanced around a bit desperately. Most people were already into the work. I could see Hermione working furiously over the cauldron, while Pansy sat staring at the ceiling, puffing her hair out with one hand.

"This is crap," I heard Blaise mutter behind me,

"No it isn't!" Drew snapped. "Just because _you're_ a brainless baboon, it doesn't mean everyone is." She put something in the cauldron, so I could hear a loud hissing noise.

"Look what you've done _now!_" Blaise snorted.

"Yeah, and you're just _genius_."

It was rare, hearing Drew in such a bad mood. She must really dislike Blaise. I smirked.

I stopped listening to them, looking at Draco who was examining his nails in a decidedly beautiful, bored, _snobby_ gesture.

This wasn't fair at all.

"Malfoy!" I said hotly. "Your hands are perfect, okay? Just try and _do_ something here, for Merlin's sake."

I guess it was easier to be rude to him when he wasn't looking at me.

He turned his head to me slowly, again, fixing the force of his mercurian eyes on me. I thought I saw annoyance, disbelief... and a bit of confusion there.

"You want _me_ to do this?" He asked, as though I was suggesting something utterly absurd.

"Well, you _are_ supposed to be my partner." I answered evenly. "You can make yourself useful."

"As far as _I_ am concerned, Weasley, I don't really have a partner." Draco pointed out.

"That's a very nice thing to say, _Draco,_" I said, really mad now. "Okay. I don't get what the hell I'm supposed to do with all this stuff here," I gestured at the gross looking ingredients on the side table. "You can... show off how perfectly wonderful you are, and _help_ me out."

His full, flawless lips twisted a little into a small smirk at my outburst. "My wonderfulness exceeds beyond the capacity of your understanding, Weasley," he said in an amused, mocking voice. It was still like melting honey, though. But he reached for the little bowl of sticky things on the side table, anyway.

He threw a faintly exasperated glance in my way, and put one of the little pointy things in the rusted old cauldron. Then he snapped the lid on the bowl, and kept it aside.

Then, he picked up a small bottle-like thing, with a tiny spout, and held it over the cauldron. He dripped exactly two small drops of the deep red liquid into the cauldron.

There was something about the way he used his hands, I noticed, as I watched him like an idiot. His hands were pale, long and slender. He used them in a graceful, sinuous way... using the tips of his fingers when he did something subtle. Like he had a lot of practice doing... sensual things with those hands.

A giggle burst out through my lips at the thought, half hysterical that I was thinking these things about_ Draco Malfoy, _of all wonderful people_._

Draco stopped in the step dripping down some acidic looking liquid from his white-pink palms, and turned to look at me incredulously.

I noticed that the glowing silver color of his irises were flecked with a deeper grey toward the edges... like a stormy, intriguing sky.

"What are you so amused about, Weasley?" His tone was skeptical, slightly dubious... like he was doubting my sanity. But I thought I sensed something grudging there, like he was talking to me in spite of himself.

I flushed. "Nothing of much importance, Malfoy." I looked at the gooey looking stuff in the cauldron. "Go on."

He narrowed his silver, glittering eyes, and looked back at the simmering couldron.

Nice. Now I could look at his face, his hands, in peace. I couldn't even feel disgusted with myself that I harbored such a desire now, with him so close, looking so gorgeous.

It was like my entire body, concentrating on my right arm that was just a few inches from his tall, lean body was tensed for the contact that would never come. It felt electric – I noticed every shift of his weight, every fidget.

I watched him nimbly wipe his fingers on a little white towel. The bubbling liquid in the cauldron was now a pale, sky blue.

"Done?" I asked, surprised. It had hardly taken him ten minutes. Not nearly enough time...

"Yes, Weasley." He said curtly, inclining his head to me.

"You're good," I noted absently, then flushing that I'd just complimented him.

He turned to me, his eyes narrowing in some sort of suspicion I couldn't understand. "_Thank you,_ Weasley. I'm flattered." The sarcasm was biting.

"Ouch," I said, equally sarcastic. "Sad, Malfoy. Seems to me you're not that used to compliments."

He pressed his lips tightly together, and looked at me coldly, the grey of his eyes like deep ice. "You are absolutely inane, Weasley."

"_Thanks_."

He looked away from me determinedly, staring straight at the Snape who was reading at his rickety old desk. I repeated him, folding my arms tightly across my chest, fuming. What was _wrong _with the guy? Couldn't even have a decent conversation with him... Stupid git. It was ironic that someone so beautiful could annoy me so much.

The clinging of the school bell just a few moments from them made a different variety of feelings go through me – relief, that I would be away from the force of his personality, his penetrating gaze; a little bit of anticipation that next was lunch, and... a little twinge of regret that I was leaving him, which was just ridiculous. I couldn't make myself accept the fact that my opinion of the prince of Slytherin had changed so drastically in a matter of a few _hours._

The phrase '_saved by the bell_' flashed through my head as I jumped up from my seat. Draco reclined lazily on the seat, looking everywhere but at me, giving off an attitude that said 'I don't care what you do, I can't even be bothered to be _irritated_ by you'. Or maybe that was me just imagining what he might be thinking. Anyway.

As the class flitered out, I hovered a little, waiting for Drew. Drew stomped over to me, nudging me with her elbow to show that I should keep walking.

I gave her a questioning glance. Her face was intensely irritated. Also a bit... _satisfied_, which I couldn't understand at all. But mostly just angry.

I saw Hermione walk quickly to Snape's desk, as he just stood up. "Professor? Um... I have a doubt, on the, er, workings of a bezoar with..."

I snorted, shaking my head.

As we just walked out the door, while Snape stood courteously by it, giving snide comments, a voice spoke up from behind us.

"Buh-Bye, Drew..." The husky voice of Blaise said. My head whipped around to see him smiling wryly at Drew's rigid back.

She grabbed my arm, and pulled me quickly through the crowd, into the Great Hall for lunch.

"You really hate Blaise, huh?" I smirked a little.

She wrinkled her nose. "He is the definition of a _moron_. Whatever, okay?" She sat down at the table, pulling me down beside her. "Let's just eat. I'm starving."

"When are you _not?_" I muttered rhetorically, helping myself to some shepherd's pie.

Again, my eyes automatically searched the Slytherin table for the certain seraph-faced snob I'd been spending my last lesson with. He wasn't there.

I couldn't... I couldn't seem to stop thinking of him, could I? Could this end in... _a crush?_

Save my soul!

"_Thanks_, Drew," I muttered to myself crossly.

"You're welcome, Ginny!" she laughed, answering me anyway. "But for what in particular?"

I turned to scowl childishly at her. "For your 'juvenile intents'. You're going to end up driving me crazy."

Drew chuckled. "That was my plan all along, now, wasn't it?"

* * *

"Yeah, yeah, so what happened today??" Lavender asked eagerly, sprawled on her stomach on the bed after dinner.

"Gah," I grumbled sulkily, leaning back on three pillows. "Why don't you ask Drew? _She_ knows. She was sitting behind me."

"Is the mood for 'sour grapes'?" Lavender muttered to herself, rolling her eyes. I ignored her, because I knew what she said was half true, and I hated it.

Drew chuckled. "I wasn't paying much attention to _you,_ Gin." She was rubbing her nails on an orange stick. "I had my own large problem next to me."

Doubtless, she was thinking of Blaise. I made up my mind to ask her why she hated him so much, some time. I mean, he was a jerk, but he wasn't _that_ bad.

"And anyway," Drew continued. "I want to hear it first-hand." She grinned widely.

I sighed. It was inevitable, I guess.

"Okay," I said, my voice weary. "I'm just all the more convinced that he's _intolerable_. Nothing else."

"Details!" Drew and Lavender sang together.

"_Nothing!"_ I said, really irritated now. "I said 'hi' to him, and he got all rude about it because I called him _Draco_ instead of just _Malfoy_. He told me I could call him 'your highness', too." I rolled my eyes.

"I told him to help me make the damn potion, because he was just _sitting_ there like a beauty queen, and he said that to him, he didn't really have a partner. But... he went ahead and made it all by himself. I told him..." I swallowed. "I told him he was good at it, and he got all snarky over me. I told him that he probably wasn't used to compliments, and he was nice enough to tell me I was _inane._ Happy?"

Lavender's eyes were wide. Ruth and Reira both had the identical, startled expression on their faces, so they looked kind of freaky. Only Drew looked herself, a pleased smirk on her face.

"What?" I was baffled. What did they expect? For him to give me roses and cake?

Lavender was the first to speak. "He _said_ so much to you?"

"Well... yeah," I answered, confused. "As I said, it was intolerable sitting there." I didn't have to mention how beautiful he was... how his _hands_ itself brought naughty little fantasies to my mind, how his piercing gaze could shatter my thoughts. Those were insignificant little details, weren't they?

"I can't believe it..." Ruth sighed.

"What?" I repeated, irritated again.

"Well, Ginny..." Drew said, a grin starting to form on her lips. "Every time _any_ girl starts to talk to him – and believe me, they talk to him like he was some pagan god, unlike how _you_ spoke to him," she chuckled. "The max they can get from him is maybe, oh, something like 'do me a favor, please, and don't talk to me'," She did a wacky imitation of Draco's cool, arrogant air.

"Yeah, so I'm surprised he took enough notice of you to be _rude_ to you," Lavender said in a voice that was definitely insulting in its astonishment.

"Ugh! Whatever." I plumped down my pillow. "The fact that he's more asshole-ish to me than other people does _not_ flatter me."

Parvati's sleepy voice came from under a heavy blanket on the next bed. "Can you turn it down, girls? I'm trying to _sleep_ here."

"Yeah, yeah," Drew chuckled. "Turning it down now." She snapped off the lights. "We'll see tomorrow. Right, Ginny?" she said as she settled into bed.

"Tomorrow," Reira murmured. "'Night."

"'Kay. Nighty-night."

I gave another hard plump to my pillow, and settled in myself.

I couldn't handle this sudden... desire to _please_ Draco Malfoy. It wasn't _healthy._ And the way he'd been in class today... I didn't feel that much hope of _dating_ him someday. Not when I couldn't even talk to him normally.

I almost felt like giving up.

But... he was so interesting. Other than the fact that he was incomparably gorgeous, I felt a deep desire to _know_ him. Like there was someone inside all of that arrogance and coldness.

So I'd wait a few more days, I decided. See what happens... If I _can_ break through something, if I can... be _nice_...

If not, then I'd have to quit this stupid dare.

But quit now?

I couldn't do that.

* * *

**A/N:** How was it? I'd love it if you reviewed! (hint, hint!) Reviews please me, and pleasing _me_ is a 'good deed'. u_u

LOL, anyway. My favorite part in this is Ginny's naughty thoughts as Draco makes the potion. :P I have so much fun with Draco ... *sigh*

Anyway! So, like I said – please review, and tell me what you think.

~starlit skyes~


	3. Tidbits of Confusion

**A/N: **Gosh, I feel like it's been so long ... Anyway. This is a pretty long chapter, and I rather like it! 8-)

I'd also like to thank everyone that reviewed the last chapter – you rock, guys! I think I replied to all of them, but if I didn't, I'm sorry! RL has been pretty busy these days, and I'm glad to be back with Ginny and gawking at Draco, lol.

This song is pretty cool, too, you should check it out.

So, on to the fic! And as usual, I **disclaim.**

* * *

_Complication is my claim to fame_

_I can't believe there' s another, constantly just another_

_and I can't avoid what I can't control_

_I'm losing ground, still I can't stand down_

_I know, yeah I know_

_I know you stay true when my world is false_

_everything around's breaking down to chaos_

_I always see you when my sight is lost_

_everything around's breaking down to chaos...  
_

******–****Chaos, by Mute Math**

**

* * *

**

I sighed as I entered the Potions dungeon the next day, my feet automatically taking me to the seat where Drew sat, grinning at me.

"Hey, Drew," I said breathlessly, drawing the chair next to her.

"Nuh-_uh,_ Ginny!" Drew laughed, pulling the chair away from me. "Potions – partners, remember?"

I remembered, oh, yeah.

"I've got to sit there _now_?!" I half wailed, though I didn't mind ... really.

"Well, yeah," She answered, in a tone that suggested it was obvious, even to someone as retarded as me. "That's why I'm waiting for that moron to come, see?" She glanced at the chair next to her, and I could see her noise scrunch up in what could only be disgust.

"Oh," I nodded. "Natch, you're waiting for _Zabini._" I grinned, as I walked to my allotted desk – which was empty right now. "Someday, Drew, you're gonna have to tell me why you hate him so much."

She muttered something that sounded like – "Passionate emotions ..."

I didn't get that girl.

Anyway, I sat at my chair, and the chair next to mine seemed to grow larger by the second. None of the Slytherins had arrived yet, I consoled myself, so Draco would come.

Reduced to hoping for the arrival of Draco Malfoy. _What has become of me??_

I sat forward on my chair, and glanced at the ceiling, my mind giving me fantasies of what it hoped would happen today. In this class.

Fantasies that made me giggle inwardly.

The rest of the class chattered as usual, without the unnerving presence of Snape here yet. That teacher was _always _late! And he ticked _me_ off for having as good a sense of time as a bunch of 'Pinklewinglers' – whatever _they_ were – in their mating season.

Which I'd taken to mean that I had a very bad sense of time.

It seemed like the loudest sound ever when the chair next to me dragged. I used all of my willpower to stop my head from snapping up to look at _him._

He seemed to drag the chair slowly, making it creak on the stone floor, deliberately – as if he was trying _hard_ to ... well, drive me nuts.

He sat down slowly, too, pinning his wrist on the desk before he lowered himself to the chair. When he _did_ finally sit, I turned my chin the tiniest bit to look at him.

He had a distinct smell – like something exciting – spice, I guessed, and something that made you think of a dark, crimson rose. A very mysterious, intriguing sort of smell – like him, itself, I supposed.

Well ... I had to be polite to my partner, right? Had to be nice, and greet him. It was _ethical ..._ Right?

Right.

So I turned to him.

He wasn't wearing the school cloak today. He had it draped around the next chair. So he was wearing this crisp, off-white shirt, that had long sleeves which he'd pushed up to his elbows – revealing a surprisingly hard-looking forearm.

His hair, as usual, was gleaming silver, and swept back into the sleek ponytail. He had a silver pen in his hand, and he was twirling in around his long, beautiful fingers – as he looked straight ahead, just like he had yesterday.

I cleared my throat loudly. "Ahem."

He didn't move. Of course.

"Morning, Malfoy." I said pleasantly. I waited for him to respond, my face feeling very hot.

He looked at me, and again I was swept away by the intensity of his eyes. They stormed and sparkled, piercing grey with flecks of iron.

Now they were irritated, and a bit bewildered. "Oh, not again, Weasley." He raised a perfect eyebrow. "Not again."

"Yeah, my greeting makes _dread_ shoot up your veins, Malfoy." I said, miffed. I shouldn't have expected a civil response from him.

He rolled his eyes. "Not dread, Weasley. Just intolerable irritation."

There was the fluttering of my heart, and the heat in my cheeks, to stop me from giving up just then. "Well ... are you going to do all the work today, too?"

"If necessary," he said, glancing at me with amused eyes. "I don't trust your intellect to be satisfactory."

"My intellect is very much satisfactory, thank you very much for your concern." I tossed my hair on to my left shoulder airily.

"Weasley, if _you_ mess up, I do _not_ wish to be blamed." He had a little smirk on his face. He tapped the tip of the silver pen on the desk. "Unlike you, Weasley, I happen to be good at this."

"Ooh," I teased. "Someone's scared of getting in trouble with the Greasy Git." I laughed.

The dungeon door slammed open, and Snape stormed in, flicking his wand dramatically at the board. _Someone's in a hurry,_ I thought wryly.

Snape's cloak whipped and swirled around him again, as he stopped by his table and swung to face us – he should have turned into a bat, or something.

"Instructions are on the board," he said, his face expressionless, voice low. "I trust that you know what to do."

"Hah. _The Greasy Git."_ Draco snorted delicately. "Who you're talking about there, Weasley, is my godfather."

I turned to him, eyes wide. "_Really?"_ I gasped. "I didn't know that."

Draco's eyes suddenly narrowed, slits of silver, and his mouth hardened. "And why _would_ you know it, anyway?" His slim fingers clenched around the pen.

"Um, I don't know," I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I guess it's just interesting to know." His reaction was surprising. Why get so worked up over it?

"Yes, of course," Draco rolled his eyes, relaxing slightly. "Incredibly interesting."

I sniffed, irked that yet another potential conversation had drawn to a close.

Suddenly, a little owl flew into the class through the doorway, and approached Snape. He deftly untied the little scroll of paper, and his chilling black eyes scanned through it.

His head snapped up. "All right, class," he said briskly. "We have a teacher's meeting, so I say it would be better if today's class was cancelled. Go back to your common rooms for the hour." He glanced briefly at his watch. "No doubt some of you will rejoice," he added dryly.

I jumped up from the seat, and grabbed my bag.

As I walked past, I resisted the urge to run my fingers through Draco's impossibly silky looking, platinum blond hair. He sat still, rising very slowly, his face thoughtful, and strangely ... vulnerable.

Drew met me at the door way, and her face was glowing. "Aw, bad luck for you," she teased. "So it'll be two more days for any _development_ in your little ... _quest._"

I blinked. Of course, we didn't have Potions till Thursday – today was Tuesday. "Yeah, bad luck," I agreed sarcastically. "For _two _whole days, I won't have any git to argue with."

What a dreary, depression picture, really. I didn't know if I'd be able to live through it.

"Well, you'll have us," Drew retorted.

"Not good enough," I muttered under my breath, and I was bothered by how true that was.

**

* * *

**

We were sitting at tea – and if I were to get 'geographical' (one of the large words Hermione uses sometimes) about our table – here's how we were sitting: I sat at the corner, and Ruth and Reira in front of me. Drew sat – and snarfed her cake – at my side, as per usual, and on her side was Dean, snuggling close to Parvati. And then it was some smaller kids, and then the Trio – Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

"Oh, no gossip today!" Lavender whined, her black eyes twinkling at me. "Did you make any _progress_ in the ten minutes of our Potions class today, Ginny?"

I glared at her, and decided to lay on the biting sarcasm thickly – if I didn't, I'd give out the impression that I sorely missed the Potions class, and that goddamned _Addicky-liquidy-_whatever, and working with my Potions partner.

What an absurd impression that would be.

So I glowered, and said: "Well, if you're talking about that ridiculous Potion, then _no._ If you're talking about that awful asshole – a.k.a Draco Malfoy – then _yeah,_ we spent ten minutes snogging each other to the point of biting each others tongues off. Happy?"

Drew inhaled her tea at my brilliant response, and Lavender pouted. Ruth and Reira grinned evilly at me, and I threw the gang an injured look.

I call these people my _friends._

I looked away, and I found my eyes moving toward the Slytherin table, toward a head of magnificent platinum blond hair.

Draco sipped daintily from his goblet. He was wearing his robes now, and the black of it was stunning with his pale skin. His silver hair was sleeked back to fall lightly over his collarbones, and again I felt that urge to run my fingers through it. I shivered. He turned a little, and said something to Blaise, who was sitting next to him, and Blaise grinned at whatever it was.

Suddenly, Draco's piercing pewter eyes flickered from the face of the dark boy, glazing over the Gryffindor table, util it settled on me. For one heart-stopping moment, he looked at me, his eyes brilliant silver. A small frown marred his smooth, flawless forehead. I swallowed. I could see his head tilt the tiniest bit to the side as he surveyed me – he looked so thoughtful, I wasn't sure he'd noticed I was looking at him, too. I felt the blood color my cheeks as I realized just how deep his eyes were.

"Don't rile our little dare-doer any more," Drew chortled, oblivious to the intense, passionate _gawking_ I was indulging in. "Poor thing, she's on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

I glared a dagger at her, and was disappointed when my weapon failed to cause harm. But my heart was still fluttering at the memory of that _one_ moment, when _he _had looked at me ...

'Course, though, when he was looking at me I was pretty sure he wasn't swimming in love or something.

"Take a chill pill, Ginny," Drew said, patting my back in an almost motherly gesture. "I don't understand why you're so serious about all this. It's just a stupid dare, after all!"

I rolled my eyes, and sipped at my iced lime tea. "You'd be mad too, if someone teased the crap out of you about some git," I muttered. I felt like wailing in addition, "–some stupid git that happens to be beautiful and you've got be obsessed with!" but I refrained wisely from doing so.

"There, there, darling." Another kind, maternal pat on my back – followed by a resounding snort of laughter – came my way from that emo punk known as _Drew._ I couldn't help grinning at her.

"You are truly crazy, Drew."

Drew mock preened. "Oh, you _flatter_ me!"

I bit into a buttery macaroon, and decided to keep tea light today – after all, I had a Quidditch practice.

This year's team was pretty good, actually – it comprised mostly of seventh years. Harry, our captain; Ruth and Reira, our Fred-n-George female version; Demelza (who was in the sixth year), a little third year called Jeremy who was supposed to have great aim, and I were the Chasers – and my wonderful brother was the Keeper.

"Hey, guys, look at Hermione!" came Lavender's urgent voice to interrupt my thoughts.

"What?" I snapped. I hated it when Lavender directed her gossip at Hermione – I think it was because Mione was so totally oblivious to all the rumors that surrounded her, so it felt wrong. Anyway, I hated all kinds of Lavender's gossip, but she was just a bird of passage, so there.

Lavender lowered her voice to a giggly whisper. "Our resident know-it-all's taking a special interest in the Hogwarts teaching staff these days!"

So she was.

Hermione sat between a brooding Harry and a grumpy Ron – this was standard scenario from day one of my many days here – and she was staring intently, as Lav had pointed out, at the teacher's table.

_That_ was standard scenario, too – starting this year.

"Hmm," Drew acknowledged from between a mouth full of hot scone. "The preacher's going for the teacher!"

"How very _witty,_" I rolled my eyes. "Maybe she's trying to get a smile out of McGonagall for extra marks?" I offered.

"– _Parvati_!" Lavender demanded her best-friend-forever – and now infatuated-best-friend-forever's attention from gazing into the deep, flirty brown eyes of Dean Thomas. "Honestly, girl!"

"Naw," Drew disagreed with my statement, eyeing Hermione. She was twirling a brown ringlet in her finger, and staring speculatively – and rather _longingly – _at the staff table. "I think she's got something else."

"I don't really care," I said dismissively.

"Yeah, like I always say," Drew agreed, her blue eyes laughing. "Gawk and let gawk!"

**

* * *

**

"Our first match is with Slytherin, guys," Harry was saying seriously as we touched down to the ground after a short – and satisfying – practice. "And much as I hate to say it," Harry scowled. "The team's good. Especially the captain."

"Who's the captain?" I asked curiously.

The team turned to stare at me incredulously. "Um, Ginny?" Ruth told me. "It's Draco Malfoy. Duh." She winked.

I blushed – why didn't I know that? "Er, right." _Great._

I have to get myself out of this – _blushing –_ mess. _Pronto!_

"Demelza and Jeremy, you're good," Harry dished out his compliments of the day as he absent-mindedly caressed his Firebolt. "Reira and Ruth, you've got some arm," he said admiringly. "And Ginny –" he turned to me, his green eyes tender. "You fly brilliant."

Don't boys _ever_ give up? When I saw that look on his face, I could remember why I'd liked him before. I regretted the way things had turned out ... But it never would turn out well – he and I were way too different, to make a long story short. But it looked like Harry still hoped. And that wasn't good.

"How about me?" Ron demanded from behind me.

Harry exchanged a grin with me as we walked back from the changing rooms. "Don't worry Ron, you're great," I answered instead. "As long as you don't faint or something on the match."

Ron flushed, and yanked my hair brutally. I put out my tongue at him, and I could feel Harry's gaze on me – it didn't feel nice.

"Ciao, Harry!" Demelza and Ruth called as the two of them and Reira made to walk back to the castle, giggling at something. "Seeya tomorrow, Harry," Jeremy said seriously, and Harry smiled down at the little kid. "Sure."

So finally, it was Ron, Harry, and me. I cleared my throat, and took a step forward. "Um, so see you guys at dinner, okay?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, see you then, Gin."

There was a cold bite to the air, and the night was dark – well, _okay,_ the night is always dark, but what I meant was, the sky was a deep black, with little pinpricks of stars twinkling merrily.

Harry smiled ruefully at me. "I'm not going to dinner ... I think I'll just grab a sandwich from the kitchens, or something. You go ahead, Ron," he said firmly. "I had a heavy tea."

Ron looked tentatively at the two of us, and I frowned. "Okay," Ron said slowly. "Seeya."

Harry and I stood watching the broad, retreating back of my brother.

"As I said, Gin," Harry said in a casual voice. "Good flying today." He offered a smile – there was that wistful edge to it, again.

"Thanks," I said as sincerely as I could, walking back to the castle. "Well ... see you in the common room, then."

"Ginny," came his voice quietly from behind me, and I paused, fighting the urge to groan. "Come with me?" I turned to look at him, but he was looking at the ground, rumpling his hair with one hand in a sort of cute gesture.

_You're the one who said 'let's be friends', _the snide voice of my inner monologue told me. _You can't avoid him all the time._

Damn my stupid inner monologue!

"Sure," I said softly, measuring the friendly, hopeful expression in his green eyes when he looked at me. He walked to me.

"We'll grab something fast," he said. "I just ... er, wanted company. Have to deal with Dobby, you know?" he grinned as he walked through the nearly deserted hallways.

I chuckled. "I have my own devotee to deal with in there. Lolly," I laughed again.

Harry chuckled. "Another thing we have in common," he said, and he looked at me, his eyes suddenly intense.

"Do you think we'll win this match with Slytherin, then?" I said hastily.

"It's just our first practice of the year, Ginny," Harry said in a surprised voice, looking at me concernedly. "We'll see ... Malfoy _is_ a good seeker, and his team's pretty good, too." Harry's brow creased. "It's gonna be tough, but I think we can pull through. As I said," he smiled wryly. "It's just our first practice today."

"Right," I agreed sheepishly.

Harry had sort of changed after the war, too. Actually, all three of them had changed. Harry hadn't lightened up, like I thought he would have – or hoped he would have. He was just as serious – only, serious about different things now. It was like he'd been waiting for the world to be saved so he would worry about the other things that mattered to him really – like Quidditch ... _me. _I felt bad that I'd hurt him, but I couldn't handle all of his ... well, his _seriousness._

We reached that ridiculous painting of the pear with the lame sense of humor in an almost-companionable silence. Harry tickled it deftly, and the door opened.

The next thing I noticed was both Harry and me leaping backward with the force of two tiny beings butting their heads on our stomachs.

"Lolly!" I exclaimed, trying to sound pleased. "Get back a little."

The elf leaped back, and cried, "Lolly sorry, Miss Ginny!" She was a tiny thing, with large blue ribbons tying her long, droopy ears together, and huge front teeth. She tugged on the little hand in hers, and Dobby's face emerged from Harry's stomach.

"Dobby sorry, Master Harry," Dobby gasped, rubbing his small hands roughly on his teary eyes. "I is so happy to see you!"

Harry stared at Dobby holding hands with Lolly, and smiled. "You two are friends?"

Dobby shot a glance at the female elf, and grinned toothily. "Ah, Master Harry, that is a long story!"

I smiled down at Lolly, who's large eyes twinkled at me.

"Tell us," I chuckled. "And we want some sandwiches, too." Lolly ran back so fast she almost blurred, and came back with a tray full of large sandwiches. "Here, Miss Ginny."

All the other house-elves worked on, seeing that we were already being served.

"Thanks." I took one, and motioned for Harry to do the same. Dobby nearly wept in happiness – at least Lolly was more composed.

"Dobby see Lolly," Dobby explained. "And Dobby's heart" – Dobby thumped a tiny fist on his stomach – "fluttered. Dobby feel very nice ... very warm, sir." Lolly blushed, and batted her long eyelashes, looking down. "Dobby and Lolly very good friends now, you see!"

"Good for you two," Harry said, grinning, as he took a bite of the sandwich, and I reached out for my second one.

"Miss Ginny, you like something else?" Lolly asked me anxiously, and I shook my head.

Dobby smiled slyly. "Lolly tells me, Master Harry –" he said, "that one day last year, Miss Ginny runs to our kitchen, and she cries, 'We won, we won!'" Dobby chortled, his large nose quivering. "And Miss Ginny orders for so many desserts, so very many, and finishes them in just two hours!"

I laughed, remembering how I'd won my first Quidditch match that day. Harry sighed, looking at me, half amused, half rueful.

"– she eat so much, so fast," Dobby said, looking at me admiringly. "And since that day, Harry Potter, sir, Lolly become Miss Ginny's eternal worshipper!"

Lolly beamed adoringly at me.

I snorted mid bite of my sandwich. "Right," I said. "Well, that's enough." I shot a glance at Harry, and he was still looking thoughtful. "Thanks for the food, you two." I grabbed a few more sanwiches from the tray, and nudged Harry with my elbow.

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said sincerely. "And ... Lolly. I'll, er, see you later."

I waved, and we hopped out of the kitchen. I handed him a sandwich, and we finished them by the time we reached the common room, and by that time, I nearly died of relief.

It's hard to 'just-be-friends' with the Boy Who Lived.

**

* * *

**

After a polite 'goodnight', Harry walked swiftly up to his dorm, though it was still pretty early – just around nine. I was no where _near_ sleepy, so I decided to sit in the room for a bit and read.

The room was empty – I guessed that most people were still in the Great Hall – and the only person there was Hermione Granger, sitting by the fireside and staring thoughtfully into the embers.

"Hey, Hermione," I said, walking up to the fireplace.

She jerked a little in surprise, though I hadn't been the quietest when I entered. "Oh, hi, Ginny ... what's up?" she smiled at me, and I felt that immediate urge to confide in her. Hermione had that sort of ... thing about her. There was something about her that immediately made you want to trust her.

But while _I_ was in denial of the fact that I had anything to confide – because I sure as hell _didn't_ feel weird at the thought of the git Malfoy, I quickly decided against anything of the sort.

"Nothing much," I shrugged. "Harry and I just grabbed some food from the kitchens." I grinned. "And we found out that our house-elf pals are romantically linked."

Hermione laughed. "Really? Dobby?"

"Yeah, and this little elf called Lolly."

I walked over to the window, and pulled aside the drapes. The cool wind on my skin felt good, refreshing. I could see fainlty the dark silhouette of the trees behind the hills, and the intriguing twinkle of the stars against the sable sky.

Hermione laughed lightly, and then she sighed. "It's funny, isn't it? That so many people around are getting the people they ... want?"

I stiffened, still looking out the window. I frowned. "Not everyone is." I stopped my mind from thinking, _I'm not getting who I want!_ but by then, it'd already thought it.

"Yeah, well," Hermione said quietly. I turned to see her smiling dryly. "We all still try."

Just then I saw a movement in the dark sky, and my eyes widened.

It was someone flying – flying swiftly, so fast, round and round the tower. I saw the brief whip of their dark cloak before whoever it was disappeared around the bend again – only to reappear a moment later.

I strained my eyes, trying to see who it is. "Gosh," I whispered.

I could make out the glint of platinum blond hair, and the paleness of skin. I shuddered lightly.

Draco Malfoy flew once more around the tower swiftly, before he took a wide turn and made to circle the whole castle. I could see him more clearly now, as I could see the wider bend. I couldn't help taking in a gasp.

Even if it was dark, the glimmer of his silver hair was unmistakeable. Even from this distance, the way he flew was amazing – he was so swift, so smooth in flight, like an eagle; so stunningly graceful, his black cloak whipping around him, almost part of the night. He was bent down on the broom, I could see his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. There seemed something like fierce joy in those eyes. His silver hair twisted in the wind beautifully, like it was alive, framing his determined face.

"What're you looking at, Ginny?"

"Hermione," I said in an awed voice, forcing myself to turn away before I melted into a puddle of desire right there. "Malfoy's flying out there!"

Hermione nodded, her face expressionless. "He does that sometimes." She searched my face shrewdly for a moment, and I quickly walked from the window and sat at the couch beside her. "He's a good flyer, isn't he?" she asked casually.

There was no point trying to fake nonchalance. "Merlin, Mione, he's great," I said decidedly. "I can't believe I've never noticed it before."

She shrugged.

I searched my bag and pulled out my latest possession – this romance novel Fleur had got me. I stared at the picture on the cover – it was the silhouette of a boy and a girl walking hand in hand on a cliff, faced by a sunset. Very romantic, very clichéd.

"Nice," Hermione commented. "I've read that one. The heroine is a bit more ... well, soppy than I would like, but the writer" – she pointed at the french name on the cover – "did an excellent job of portraying the mixed feelings of forbidden love." She nodded knowingly.

I rolled my eyes. "Like I really care. I'll read it and see, Mione."

She grinned.

"Wait – do we have any homework?"

"Snape gave us something. Five feet on whether you think potions concerning the change of sober human behavior to other extreme sensations should be used sparingly."

"Right, so you can give me yours." I said decidedly. "Boy, am I glad we're in the same year." I smiled pleadingly at her, and held out my hand for the homework.

She surprised me by flushing slightly. She bit her lip, looking guilty. "Um, Ginny, I haven't done it."

I blinked. My hand dropped like a rock. I think my eye must have twitched a bit.

"You haven't _done_ it!?"

She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "No. And ..." She sat back on her chair. "I don't really feel like doing it now. So who cares?" She grinned rebelliously – it wasn't very convincing. "I'm sure teachers can handle me not doing work for once."

I stared at her. Her brown eyes were playful – but they were also _secretive._ Hell, she was _blushing_, for crying out loud.

"Hermione, you're not doing your Potions homework?" I demanded, and I sounded like I was accusing someone of breaking a century old, unbreakable tradition or something. "I mean, has the earth stopped moving, or _what?_"

She glowered. "What's the big deal? A little bit of slackening couldn't hurt." She sniffed. "I'm as much entitled to get into trouble as anyone else."

Was she trying to consecrate seventh year and NEWTs by getting into her very first detention?

"Sure you are," I rolled my eyes. "Right. That explains why your record has been as clean as Percy's nose all these years."

Hermione cracked a smile.

"Snape ... He's going to get give you detention, probably ..." I mused.

She was frowning thoughtfully. "You think so?" she asked absently.

I glanced at her, surprised. "You sound _hopeful_!" I accused.

She smirked. "Do I, now?"

"You're hiding something, Mione," I complained, keeping aside the book and folding my arms around my chest. "But I guess you have a right to," I amended quickly. "But heck, _anyone_ would be shocked at Hermione Granger failing to submit homework – _anyone_, hell, even Dr – _Malfoy_ would be shocked!"

It was my turn to resemble a tomato now. Couldn't I keep my fat mouth _away_ from that name!?

Hermione looked at me with that shrewd look I'd come to be wary of.

"But bully for you, anyway," I said hurriedly.

She smiled wryly, and got up. "I don't know. Maybe I'll do it tomorrow ... I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Ginny!" she went quickly up the stairs.

I stared after her, my mouth open.

Merlin's sexy mistress, things were getting confusing around here.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, yeah, how was it? If you're reading this, _please_ review! I was quite happy with the response for the last chapter – to me, it was great – so now I hope I get as much or more! Please, people!

I know, there wasn't much of DxG yumminess in this chapter, but there were a few things and moments I wanted to establish here. So anyway, more fun's coming!

Hope you enjoyed it!

~starlit skyes~


	4. Not Exactly HunkyDory

**A/N:** Yay, another update! I wanted to get this chapter done a long, long time ago...But I've been busy, with school and a LOT of studying, and hardly any time to write...*looks tragic* No, really...

Anyway, I thought I'd never finish this, and then, while I was listening to The Kinks (which I love, by the way), I heard these lyrics, and was INSPIRED! :D

And an extra THANK YOU! for the reviewers of my last chapter! *blows a kiss in their direction*

So enjoy!

* * *

_All the wars that were won and lost_

_Somehow don't seem to matter very much anymore._

_All the lies we were told,_

_All the lies of the people running round,_

_Their castles have burned!_

_Now I see change,_

_But inside _

_we're the same _

_as we ever were._

**–Livin' On A Thin Line, The Kinks**

**

* * *

**

The next day seemed to be uneventful. Or maybe, the things that used to count as 'events' to me, didn't seem very eventful anymore. And, much as I didn't like to admit it, I think that had something to do with the fact that I never saw Draco all day.

Finally, that evening, we were in the changing rooms before heading toward Quidditch practice. I was kind of hungry, and it was late, so I hoped Harry would keep it brief.

"We started off a little late today," Harry was saying, voicing my thoughts, "so we won't be able to do much." He looked sort of tired, and his dark hair was longer than it used to be, and messier than it should be, falling over his forehead, into his jade green eyes. But he had that serious, earnest, _committed_ sort of look on his face; a look I'd noticed he had whenever it had something to do with Quidditch.

He got up from the bench he was sitting on, and motioned for us to head outside. "We'll just practice catching a bit, take a few rounds, and head to dinner."

I heaved a sigh of relief, as I picked up my Cleansweep 07 and trotted outside. I was pretty tired myself, probably thanks to the vicious new, lovely things introduced to us in Herbology class today – acidic green, slimy things that had hidden teeth in so many places it didn't count as 'hidden' anymore.

But it wasn't like I'd expected something similar to those Muggle gardening classes where people watered begonias with baby blue watering cans, was it?

Everyone seemed kind of quiet today. Ruth, Demelza, and Reira were talking quietly in a little bunch, Harry and Ron walking together as usual, with Joe Piggler tagging behind them in true hero-worship.

I strayed afar as I walked, dreamy, staring blankly at the deep blue sky. I was thoughtful ... indeed, I had plenty to think about. My feelings, for example.

I had never _liked_ someone, expect for the infatuation with Harry I'd had (that we need not dwell too much upon at the moment), and the even more unhealthy obsession with Tom Riddle.

But my feelings toward a certain platinum blond were neither of these. But, nor could I say I _liked_ him. I didn't.

I couldn't! ...Could I?

I absently ticked off on my fingers – he was beautiful, that was something I had to accept without preamble. Beautiful, in an almost effeminate way; a strange way – but that only seemed to make him more appealing. Plus, I never considered the fact that the bod he packed under those expensive clothes was _effeminate._ Ahem.

There were thousands of girls – and boys – after him. He was rich, he was brilliant. Even if he wasn't exactly some war hero, fighting against Voldemort, he _had _done his bit; apart from being secret informer to the order, he had actually saved a few lives – defected at the last moment.

But that wasn't it. There was something about him, about his personality, that just had me ... so _curious._ Or I didn't know if curious was the word. Somehow, I wanted to see him, talk to him. Know him more. But the funny thing was, when I _was_ talking to him, something about him just _irritated_ me. He seemed to bring out violent reactions in me – a talent I only remember Ron possessing. But I didn't imagine wonderful little images with Ron where he had me in his long arms, his large hand with his callused fingers holding my face, his ruddy face an inch from mine.

Ewww!

It was beyond confusing.

_Ginevra!_ I screamed internally at myself. Because I had naughty fantasies...And these were beyond words. Malfoy, pressing me against a wall, so I could feel his hard, lean body against mine. I'd wind my fingers around his fine, silky hair. And he'd _kiss_ me – his face so close to mine, those beautiful lips of his moving with mine. He'd taste sweet, and warm, and delicious...

_See?_ See what I'm talking about?

And I couldn't help but hope that there was some promise of that fantasy coming true...in a more real sense. I didn't have much to be hopeful about – he was Draco Bloody Malfoy, wasn't he? And, from what I have heard, he enjoyed a few girls in his own house at one time. Those few girls were beyond comparison, especially comparison to good 'ol _me,_ in regard to looks. Look at Astoria Greengrass herself, for example – she was reputed to have the best tits in school. And I...I was cute, pretty at most, this I could accept with not too much modesty. I had been told there was something alluring about my small, pale face, with it's large sparkling amber eyes and crimson, soft looking lips. And I'd never minded, because I was _me..._ and I liked me.

Suddenly, someone came at my side. I jumped a little. "I'll keep it short," Harry promised me softly. "You look tired, Ginny."

"Thanks," I replied. I walked slowly, and I could see he was trying to match my stroll. "And anyway," I smiled sarcastically at him, "I happen to enjoy Quidditch too, you know – just a teeny, weeny bit."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Erm, right." He bit his lip, and quickened his stride so he was back at the side of my burly brother. I sighed.

So I squared my shoulders, deciding I would keep further introspection for tonight, with my faithful journal by my side, and strode forward to kick off the ground.

**

* * *

**

I walked to the Great Hall for dinner, flanked by Harry and Ron. The rest of the team had gone up ahead, while Harry claimed he had strategy to discuss with his Keeper and 'star Chaser', by which, I admit, I couldn't help mellowing a little. Praise in regard to Quidditch from Harry was always something that could flatter me.

"So you need to feint," Harry was pressing to Ron repeatedly, "especially in the game with Slytherin. When you play with snakes, be _snakey_ yourself."

I snorted. "_Snakey?_"

Harry ignored me. "So Ron, you need to keep them guessing. They shouldn't know which hoop you're protecting, and which you're not." Ron nodded fervently. "_Keep them guessing,_" Harry pressed.

"Okay, okay," Ron muttered. "Got it."

"And Ginny, like I've said – you need to keep in mind," Harry said, inclining his head to me, "that when you get the Quaffle, perform the Googball Move. You know that one–"

"What, balance the Quaffle on my nose?" I asked laughingly.

He frowned. "Erm, not exactly, actually we–"

"I'm kidding," I interrupted, rolling my eyes.

"Well, be serious," he snapped.

"Okay, Harry," I said impatiently. "I got this."

Harry sighed. "Right."

We rounded the last corner to the Great Hall, but suddenly, we stopped, at hearing a little shuffling noise...and what sounded like a breathy moan, from somewhere at our left.

"Oh, shit," Harry mumbled under his breath. "Crap, crap, crap."

In the shady corner, opposite an oil lamp, pushing up a girl roughly against the wall, was a certain tall male, wearing a crisp black shirt on which his white-blond hair shone silver.

_"You know the guy,"_ Lavender had said a few days ago. "_Draco bloody Malfoy._"

And did I mention that his head was bent, his lips obviously crushing the unmentionable female's mouth? Probably not. Well, here you go.

His lips were obviously crushing the unmentionable female's utterly _undeserving_ mouth.

I stared, shocked, as his hands ran across her body, while her fingers...or rather, talons, clenched themselves around his flawless, tight butt. And I heard a low, breathy moan escape her as he kissed her fiercely – which was what had caught our attention in the first place. My heart was pounding, and my face felt very hot.

I felt like wailing, _didn't you say Draco Malfoy DOESN'T DATE!? _

And screaming, _EW! Pansy Parkinson!?_

I could strangle the aforementioned, and do it happily. I felt like fleeing, running away to some faraway corner, and stop the stinging in my eyes, and the surprising, startling, unexpected _pain_ I felt in me. But I _couldn't_ go anywhere, my feet wouldn't move, and I watched Draco Malfoy make out passionately with that Slytherin bimbo while I suddenly felt...bitter.

"Um, on to the Great Hall?" I heard Harry mutter awkwardly.

"_Definitely,_" Ron agreed, in his loud bass voice, "I really don't want to watch this."

Nor did I.

But Ron's incomprehensible lack of intelligence in this situation was enough for Draco's flawless back to stiffen suddenly. Ron's voice was hard to miss. Draco pulled away automatically, and then, before I knew it, he was leaning against the wall in a casual, sexy stance, one arm on his slender hip, and the other around the waist of The Unmentionable Female, who took this moment to suddenly smile smugly at me, as if she knew exactly what was running through my head.

Perhaps Drew was right, Slytherins really were incarnate of evil clothed in gorgeous bodies!

And, quite distinctly, I saw his face change, right in front of me. The relaxed, stunning lines hardened as he noted Harry, his grey eyes glinting.

"Enjoying the show?" Draco inquired in a low, husky voice, one fair eyebrow raised mockingly. His eyes lingered on Harry, flicking once toward me, and he said softly, "The rest of the world like privacy at times like this, you know?"

He had quite the nerve for someone who'd just been caught snogging in public! But as I looked closely at him, I saw that his face was pale, paler than usual, and was savagely pleased.

Ron made a gagging sound, and stomped into the Great Hall, shaking his head.

Draco's pale eyes followed him, his perfect lips forming a mocking little smirk. And I stared at him, willing him to look at me. It was so _easy,_ I fretted. All he had to do was move his eyes, just a few inches away.

And move that arm, ten feet away.

"Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth, "I have NO idea what you're talking about." Harry tugged at my arm, and I moved a step away, but I couldn't seem to _leave_.

Draco snorted delicately. His hair was tousled, and a few silky strands fell over his beautiful eyes, that still managed to look intense pewter, even in this dim light. And his lips, his delicious, pink lips, were swollen from what I surmised had been _quite_ a thorough snogging session.

I hated it. I didn't like it, not at all. I felt like dragging him away from that wall, far away, and slapping his face repeatedly. And I didn't like the only reason why I would want to do something like that.

Pansy Parkinson, who was still clinging to his side, was looking...lovesick. She gazed up at him blearily, the arm she had around his waist traveling up his lean, muscular back.

And then, slowly, Draco's eyes moved across Harry, latching on to me. He looked at me wordlessly, grey eyes piercing, until I said bitterly, "Come, Harry, let's go. These two probably aren't finished yet."

At my words, strangely, Draco's jaw clenched. "How considerate," he said tightly, his eyes again on Harry now. His mouth twisted ever so slightly into a half-smirk. He shook off Pansy's arm gently. "But my appetite for _this_ is quenched."

He threw Pansy another glance, and then, loped away into the Great Hall gracefully, and the silver of his hair flashed in my eyes.

The silence after it was profound...ridiculously so.

"Come on, Ginny," Harry said in a hard voice. He stomped toward the door, not looking back to see if I was following.

With the images of what had happened in the last five minutes in my head, curdling around it, I didn't realize I was tagging behind. But suddenly, a soft, almost unfamiliar voice stopped me.

"Weasley," she said, and I turned to see Pansy Parkinson, still standing by the wall – her stance was slightly awkward, lost, but her willowy frame retained her usual dignity, and sense of salf-satisfaction.

"Weasley," she repeated, her voice very quiet. I looked at her curiously, and her icy blue eyes were triumphant – but there was something else there...something like bitterness. "I'm the best piece of ass in this whole school," she stated, her full lips curving into a small smile. "It was fun, finally snogging Draco...he's amazing." And then she sighed. "But you know what?" she said softly, the smile fading. "I'm actually sorry."

And then she turned, and walked gracefully into the Great Hall, leaving me standing there staring after her like an idiot. "Well, Ginevra," I muttered to myself as I followed in her actions, and pulled open the heavy door to the Great Hall, "miracles may never cease." I paused a moment to blink furiously, take a deep breath, and then walk to my table. Everything tumbled around my head painfully, and again, I felt like crying, or screaming in frustration – because I couldn't explain how much seeing Draco like that effected me.

As I took the only available seat in the Gryffindor table, with Demelza at one side and Harry at the other, I gathered all of my will-power to not look at the Slytherin table. I absently helped myself to some lasagna, but was hardly able to eat it. I poked around my Caesar salad desolately, seeing the sight of Draco holding _her_, in my plate.

Finally, as I shoveled lemon meringue pie to my mouth, I gave up. I looked at the Slytherin table, almost desperately, not knowing what I wanted to see.

I saw Draco there, at his usual seat. I recognized by the unnatural blonde hair that Pansy sat right across from him, but Draco ate studiously, not once looking up at her.

But, he didn't seem to be eating much. He picked daintily at his salad, just like I had, only more...well, daintily. There was something _forced_ about the way he sat, the way he ate. And once, as he reached out for his goblet, his pale eyebrows drew together into a little frown.

He left the hall alone, a few moments before I sighed, and left myself.

I couldn't write in my diary. I just couldn't. And so I lay in bed, thinking.

Why did him kissing Pansy bother me so much? Why _should_ it?

_Damnit,_ I swore. The only answer I could find was...I had something for him. If I didn't like him with anyone else, that must mean that I wanted him to be mine. And I felt so stupid, so _dumb,_ for not realizing this was happening. For being so blind...

"Anybody home?" came a familiar voice from the entrance, interrupting my desolate thoughts. I sat up, actually feeling glad to see the lively face of my best friend.

"Drew," I said glumly.

She took off her cloak, throwing it into her trunk. "Aw, what's with the mood?"

"You don't want to know," I muttered savagely, staring down at my purple sheets moodily, the image of _him_ with his arms around _her_ flashing around my mind again. My eyes pricked, and I bit my lip.

There was a silence, and I looked up to see Drew frowning at me. She slowly sat down at the edge of my bed. "Hey," she said softly. "What's got you riled up, Oh Feisty One?"

I smiled, in spite of myself. "Aaah, let's just say, life in general." And I remembered it was all _her_ dare in the first place, and I narrowed my eyes at her. "Plus, your little idea of fun doesn't exactly help my peace of mind."

She put on a mock stern look. "Be specific, please." When I remained silent, weighing whether or not to tell her, she asked again, "Is this about Draco Malfoy?" she asked curiously.

I gave up. "Yes!" I wailed suddenly. "Yes."

"Spit it out," she ordered.

"You told me he doesn't date," I accused, rubbing my eyes furiously. "And this evening, I saw him outside the Great Hall, _snogging_ the daylights out of Pansy Parkinson." My face fell as I said it, and I realized how much that really hurt me, in spite of my best efforts to prevent it.

"Oh." She sounded surprised. "Oh..."

"What?"

She grinned at me. "Not up for the competition, eh?"

I scowled fiercely.

"Ginny..." she said, abruptly thoughtful. "Do you..._like_ him now?" Her lips twitched. "Like, actually have a _crush_ on him?" She giggled.

I looked down. "I don't know."

She made a skeptical noise.

"I really don't!" I defended myself. "I can't understand, I can't figure it out..." My voice trailed off uncertainly.

She smiled, her deep blue eyes sparkling. "Figure it out, then. But don't let this bother you, Ginny," she said more seriously, "and you do know, that if you want to, you can always give it up, you know, the dare. I swear none of us will tease you," she promised. "Well, okay, maybe a little bit," she amended. "We're just having fun."

I smiled thankfully at her. "Thanks, Drew. But I'm not giving it up." I was feeling better already, and my smiled widened to an impish grin. "I'm sure I could handle a little competition."

She laughed. "That's the spirit!" She stood up, making her way to the bathroom. "Seeya."

As she left, I pondered how I felt now.

I felt determined.

Pansy's ass may be of high standard. Actually, on that count, there _was_ no competition. The girl was hot, without question. But I decided not to be so serious about it – so what if he'd had a good snog?

Okay, that _did_ really bother me...

What I really decided in that moment was...to stop this stupid denial thing. To stop hovering on the fence, and admit it – admit the fact, that I had a little bit of a crush on Draco Malfoy. It would be a relief to my brain.

Well, something had to be done about that, Slytherin bimbo or not.

**

* * *

**

The next day was a fated day.

It was the day, that Potions was the first class.

Don't give me that look – you know what incredible meaning Potions had to me these days. And Potions is not _ensnaring my senses,_ I'll have you know; it's more of my Potions partner that's indulging in _that_ pass time.

I had decided that I was going to quit denying it to myself, be my true honest, frank self, and let things be what they are – and today, I wasn't going to care, and I would show Draco Malfoy exactly what's _what._

There _was_ the fact, I admit, that I had no idea about what _was_ what, because that _what_ was exactly what I was trying to figure out, but, since I frequently confuse myself, I decided to move away from the thought. The point is, I was going to stop fooling myself, and admit that I was enamored by the boy.

And he presented a _challenge!_ I never shirked from those things. Denial, I've explained, takes an enormous toll on mental peace.

But breakfast gave me some more food for thought – isn't that a clever play of words? But anyhow, I sat down at my normal seat, wondering idly if Drew showed any likelihood of waking up sometime soon. And then, like it was a morning ablution, I turned my eyes towards the Slytherin table, seeking a fair, platinum blond, beautiful head.

My eyes first fell on Blaise Zabini, who was sitting at Draco's usual corner, for some reason. He was looking handsome, in that boyish, wicked way of his, as per usual. He was in animated conversation with a voluptuous brunette who's name I was sure was Frieda McFaffy, and she laughed hysterically at something he'd just said. And just as I looked, his dark, slightly slanted eyes seemed to scan swiftly through the Gryffindor table, as if he were searching for someone, before focusing on McFaffy's overly done-up face again.

I wondered who he was looking for, if he _was_ indeed looking for someone...Another mystery.

But, more importantly, _he_ was there, applying what looked like apricot jam onto his toast with delicacy, looking beautiful and arrogant as always.

Have I said that I adore jam of any kind? Any flavor, you name it. Pineapple, mixed fruit, peach, apple..._Especially_ apricot jam. My Auntie Muriel used to make _excellent_ apricot jelly for me, when I was a kid – the only period of my life that she could tolerate me, and vice versa. So I imagined Draco...his pale, chiseled features intense, his delicious pink lips smeared with apricot jam. And what if I kindly offered...to lick it off for him?

Oh, shiver in ecstasy!

Just then, Hermione dropped down at the seat opposite to me. "Hey, Ginny," she said edgily.

"Morning," I nodded at her.

She sat a few minutes, simply staring blankly at the table, while I drank my coffee.

"Erm, what are you looking at, Mione?" I asked her finally, wondering if I should be concerned for the poor thing. Maybe she was finally losing it.

She blushed, looking me determinedly in the eye. "I'm not going to finish breakfast anytime soon," she said defiantly. "I'm going to eat very slowly, see?"

"I do not see," I told her.

She sighed, looking down. "First class is Potions," she said softly.

I stared at her. Okay, maybe I got it now.

"Hermione, you're _officially_ going crazy," I told her. "Snape will go _ballistic_ if you're very late to his class." Not fall in love with her.

She looked up at me again, her dark eyes unreadable. "We'll see what we does."

It was like...she was trying to _anger_ him into reacting to her in some way. It made no sense, I know, but Hermione _usually_ knew what she was doing.

She whipped out a book from her bag, and held it very conspicuously over her plate, clenching her jaw and reading with utmost determination.

I dug into my porridge then, (after licking off _three_ entire tablespoons of apricot jam, mind you, and trying to imagine it wasn't cold metal underneath all the sweetness), all the while pondering on what I should think of that intriguing, confusing, publicly-snogging, blond Slytherin – and also trying to figure out if Hermione was on the right track...if having a crush on Severus Snape was the right track at all.

**

* * *

**

"You know, Ginny, I can't _stand_ that guy!" Drew fumed as we walked to the dungeons. "I can't stand him!"

"Which guy is it now?" I murmured slyly. Hey, I should be able to have my fun.

"_Blaise Zambini,_" she said savagely, twisting his name on purpose. "He has it in for me! It's like he _lives_ to piss me off!"

"There's a good goal in life." I smirked. "Anyway, what did he do now?"

"_I don't know!_" Drew threw up her arms. "Lots of things. Do you know, as I came from the dorm, he sent a little paper plane after me? It _zoomed_ after me, finally poking me in the head. And do you know _what it said?_"

"No, what?" I laughed.

"'The purple streaks are _phat,'_" she growled. "That's what it said. The _jerk!_"

"Hey, it's a compliment," I snickered. "Accept it with _grace,_ Moreno. And anyway, this was only after last week, when you made 'IT'S TOO TIGHT' come up on the back of his trousers in squiggly lettering..."

"Oh, you shut up," she snapped rudely, and I appraised her with raised eyebrows. It's not often, like I mentioned, that you see Drew so...vehement. Oh, sure, she was temperamental, and the tiniest thing can have her in hysterics, but there was something different here...like they were out to irritate each other.

"What?" she asked me petulantly.

I grinned. "Oh, nothing." It wasn't often I got to irritate Drew as much as she did me. "Nothing at all. I'm just looking forward to class, and our potion-making..."

She rolled her eyes expressively, flicking a strand of purple hair from her eyes. "You _would_," she added as an afterthought, and I blushed like the idiot I am.

As we climbed down the stairs to the dungeons, I saw the rest of the students walking down it. My eyes skillfully searched the crowds, scanning through the Gryffindors, and finally found the house of my preference; Slytherin.

Just kidding!

And don't tell me I'm a betrayer and I'm not loyal, I don't want to hear it!

I noticed Draco from his glimmering blond hair – which he had swept back, to simply fall artfully over his collarbone – surrounded by his housemates, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini in particular. He wore the white shirt of our uniform, his cloak draped on his arm, and his green and silver tie hung loosely, and casually, and well..._sensually_, the top two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned.

As we walked, I noted Blaise commenting on something slyly, a broad grin on his dark, handsome face, and dig an elbow into Draco playfully. Draco smirked back at him, looking amused at whatever it was. I watched them interestedly, like one admired a beautiful painting: both of them, tall and lean but with sure muscles, were the picture of male yumminess.

"Talk of the devil," I murmured.

"The brainless nincompoop," Drew said in what sounded like agreement.

She grabbed my arm, and stomped forward at a faster speed, like she was trying to race with the Slytherins. I chuckled in surprise. Drew marched determinedly, and when he reached the two males I had described as yummy, she looked straight forward and her steps grew more like stamps on the ground.

I grinned in spite of myself, as Draco looked interestedly at us, and noticed that Zabini's face had spread into such a wide, devilish grin it reminded me suddenly of Sylvester's expression as he cornered Tweety.

"Oh, hello," he said delightedly. I looked at Draco, and saw his lips twitch.

I suddenly noticed Pansy was no longer with them...Yes!

Even if she'd just gone up ahead to not be late.

Drew scowled.

"Hey, Zabini," I said easily, throwing a pointed look at Drew as if telling her to be polite, while I was snickering inside.

Drew shot me a glare, and then moved away from me, towards the two Slytherins. "_Hello,_ boys!" she said loudly, shooting me another glower.

I grinned.

My eyes were drawn again to the beautiful Slytherin at his side, and I was surprised to note that his lovely silver eyes were fixed intensely on me, their expression, as always, impossible to understand. I gathered my wits to raise an eyebrow at him, and looked away, blushing slightly as the memories of last night came to my mind...Could that be what he was thinking of?

Blaise left Draco's side, and sauntered towards us, and Drew stopped, glaring at him.

"Hello," he said in a low, smooth voice. "I'm thrilled to see you, too." He smirked, and winked.

"Well, I'm _not,"_ Drew bit out. "Because I hate you."

"Is that so?" Zabini snickered. "So how are you today?"

"_Fine,_ thank you, you numbskull!"

Blaise laughed loudly, seeming genuinely amused, his long black eyes fixed steadily on Drew's face. "Watch your mouth, Moreno."

I saw Draco throw a knowing look at his friend, and then walk forward, his hands in his pockets. I was tempted to follow, but I decided that just because I'd decided to be natural and try not to care doesn't mean I should lose all my skills at subtlety. I sighed; I was also curious of what was going to occur between my friend, and this dark, flirty Slytherin.

"Wait..." Blaise said suddenly, a glint coming into his eyes. "What's that in your ear?"

Drew narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

Blaise reached out slowly, gently, to Drew's face, seeming to tickle her ear, while she stood stiffly, scowling at him like he was a bug. The action seemed even tender, and I wondered for a moment if he was _touching_ her, you know, in a affectionate way, but then he suddenly drew back his hand like he was shocked.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, staring at his hand in mock horror.

He held a thick candle between his fingers gingerly.

"Seriously, that's a..._lot_ of ear..._wax_!"

"Why, you–" Drew raged, "you _insufferable_ bozo!" I was surprised Drew was so pissed – she was the type that would find this sort of lame thing funny.

Blaise smirked at her as we walked on to the dungeons. "Original, eh?" he murmured to her, to which she replied, "Just you wait, you schmuck. You don't know how good I am at practical jokes, instead of _cheesy_ jokes!" and I chuckled quietly to myself. _Drew_ calling something _cheesy..._

When we finally entered, Snape was sitting at his desk, his large hands folded calmly on his desk, his sable eyes scanning the class almost _meditatively,_ his jet black hair forming two curtains at the sides of his pale face.

"Take a seat. Quickly." He said fondly to me.

My eyes found my table flawlessly, and I saw Draco leaning back casually on his chair, his eyes boring into...Pansy Parkinson's amply revealed cleavage. I bit my lip, forcing down the angry scowl on my face.

_How did she manage that with the school robes, HONESTLY!? _

I stomped ahead, and dropped into my seat next to Draco with vengeance, sadistically glad that I was now blocking his view.

Blaise and Drew followed, still arguing about something, and I heard Drew say, "it's not candle wax in human ears, you doofus!".

I watched them, Drew's face incredulous and slightly annoyed, Blaise supremely amused, as he replied, "Wow, _breaking news!_"

I snorted, in spite of myself.

I glanced at Draco, wishing I could simply stare at him all day without him noticing.

I felt oddly thrilled as I noticed that his lovely eyes were again focused on my face, his head slightly cocked to one side, as if he were pondering something.

Nothing could explain the spongy feeling I got; that hot, tingly feeling, when his beautiful, silver-grey eyes were fixed on mine, as they were now. I stared back at him, all anger and thoughts of Pansy, Drew, or Blaise forgotten.

His eyes bored into mine, gloriously intense, the molten grey in them swirling like storm clouds. But they were as unreadable as they were lovely.

"I'm not saying hi to you today," I told him finally, to break the thick, almost suffocating silence. "_Or_ calling you Draco."

His face transformed immediately, and then his grey eyes were amused. "Now I'm relieved."

I looked at him desolately, biting my lip. "So what," I said in a bitter voice, because I had to mention it, "had an interesting evening yesterday?"

He appraised me coolly, his deep grey eyes calculating, and then his lips curved into a little smirk. "Oh, yes," he said softly, sounding slightly smug. He tapped a long, pale finger on the desk in blasé kind of gesture, and added haughtily, "I always do."

I glowered at my hands. "I'm _sure._"

Suddenly, I was angry again. Who did this haughty, obnoxious guy think he was_, exactly??_ I had no patience with him. Did he think he could boast about all his slutty advents at various corners of the school to _me?_

He didn't deserve my attention, after doing what he'd done.

"Leave me alone today," I told him flatly, still looking at my hands. "You can do the Potion by yourself, like you always do." I didn't care about the effect this had on my new resolution of being natural, or whatever the heck else. I was _mad,_ and that was it.

There was a pause.

"Weasley," he said sharply.

I looked at him coolly, and his grey eyes were curious. "What? Got a problem?"

He snorted. "_No,_" he said. "But I don't want to see you sitting there, being a waste of space." The hauteur crept back into his voice. "I'd much rather we both dropped the act, and you made yourself _useful._"

"Drop what act?" I asked him incredulously.

He rolled his eyes. "That we can't work together."

"Oh," my eyebrows hit my hairline, "_oh!_ You want me to help you make the potion now?"

Hadn't that been my idea in the first place? He'd been the one who'd desired solitude, the immature asshole.

"Not help," he corrected haughtily, "I meant, make yourself _useful._"

So now, after two classes of hostility, he wanted me to _work_ with him. The nerve of that boy!

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep the beam that I could feel coming off my face – because I was actually _happy_ about this. My anger evaporated like food before Pigwidgeon. Because finally, he was admitting that we needn't be...on opposite sides all the time. That there was no wall between us that stopped us from getting to know each other.

He was finally opening up to me!

"Prick," I muttered. I made a show of sighing reluctantly. "_Okay,_" I said, pursing my lips.

I shot a sidelong glance at him, he smirked mockingly.

Snape stood up with that feline grace of his from the desk, his face expressionless, and flourished his wand at the board, which immediately filled with writing.

"Class," he said crisply, "we shall begin the second stage of the _Addicere Liquidus _today." He paced across the aisles. "And unless the world is to come to an unfortunate end, I'd expect each and every one of you," he said in that sardonic way of his, a sneer on his lips, "to _finish_ it today."

He suddenly banged his pale fist on his desk, and I jumped. "And I want _silence,_" he said silkily.

"Here we go again," I muttered.

"_Well,"_ I looked significantly at Draco – who was straightening his tie absently. He looked up at me piercingly.

I tapped my fingers on the desk. "I'm waiting," I said, grinning.

He snorted delicately, while I stared at him, waiting for instructions. I preferred it infinitely to looking at the board, you see.

* * *

**A/N: **What do you think? Did I do good? Do you like this?

Please, review. I'll adore you if you do, I really will.

~starlit skyes~


	5. No One Sleeps When I'm Awake

**A/N: **I know. I know. It's been nearly a year since the last update.

*cowers in shame*

And I'll have the lot of you know that I wrote this in two hours of rapid typing. I've rarely been so happy with myself. And it's all thanks to my dear friend **Kim** (**Boogum**), who sent me two amazing second reviews that prompted me to get to writing this. Thanks, Kim! :D

That said, I can't say I'm very pleased with this. Most of it is rather pointless, it seems to me...But I hope you enjoy it all the same!

* * *

_I don't believe that anybody _

_Feels the way I do about you now..._

And all the roads we have to walk are winding

_And all the lights that lead us there are blinding _

_There are many things that I  
_

_Would like to say to you  
_

_I don't know how..._

_Because maybe_

_You're gonna be the one who saves me  
_

_And after all  
_

_You're my wonderwall..._

**–Wonderwall, by Oasis**

**

* * *

**

Draco looked at me silently for a moment, eyes calculating, before he smirked unwillingly—yes, actually smirked in genuine amusement—and gave a low, soft chuckle. "Weasley," he told me, "you are a very good example of those times when I wish I wasn't taken so very seriously."

I rolled my eyes at him, though something in me was dancing at his good humor. "Who on earth told you I take you seriously?" I said flippantly. "It's called 'calling your bluff', Malfoy."

Draco snorted, sitting back and stretching out his long legs. "Weasley, you delusional fool," he said softly, looking up at the ceiling. "Malfoys never bluff."

"And if they do, it's only to bribe the Ministry, or something similar, right?"

He gave me a sidelong glance, looking at me through his long, pale lashes, and his eyes were sharp. "Exactly."

"'Tis a strange life you lead, ferret-boy."

"Or a luxurious one."

"In your case, I doubt there's much of a difference between the two."

My tone had been light, and I was saying every single stupid word that came into my red little head—I admit, something in me was buoyant at the way he replied naturally to me, even if rudely.

Suddenly, Draco sat up again, and looked straight into my face, eyes suddenly smoldering, deepening to a darker grey. He looked at me silently for a moment.

"You're right," he said quietly. "There isn't."

He sighed once more, and looked towards that batman of a Potions Master named Snape, who was leaning gracefully against his desk, eyes pensively trained on the creaky door of the dungeon. He seemed to be biding his time in telling us to shut the heck up, as the class was noisy as hell right now—I could see the imaginary vein ticking in his temple as he pondered on when to morph into a bat and flap violently in everyone's face.

Suddenly, the classroom door slammed open, the sound reverberating across the dungeon, and a hush fell upon the class. In the doorway, seeming dignified and defiant and generally strange, stood a certain bushy-haired girl named Hermione Granger.

"Oh, for the _love_ of Merlin's yellow knickers!" I swore under my breath, glaring in horror at the girl and willing her to look at me so I could convey what an utter _idiot_ she was.

The entire class waited expectantly for Snape to blow his top and scream—for we all know exactly how the man reacted to tardiness, especially in the case of a member from the Trio.

Snape's head slowly turned toward the doorway, and there was almost a little _click_ as his eyes flicked over her, training unblinkingly on her face.

"Miss Granger," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, dangerously low.

She met his eyes defiantly, two spots of red appearing on her cheeks. "I'm sorry I'm late!" she called out loudly. "I know it's been_ twenty minutes_, Professor. It _really_ was quite unpardonable of me!"

That was a little too pointed, if you ask me. But no one ever does ask me.

Snape looked at her silently in what I considered the eerie calm before the destructive tempest. To my surprise, a slow, dull pink flush appeared on his hollow cheeks as his thin mouth hardened, his eyes still fixed steadily on her.

"Do you, ah..." he murmured silkily, "Do you have a possible explanation for your lateness, Miss Granger?"

Okay, things were _very_ calm now. Snape was quiet and contained and pensive. Very calm. So when was the tempest coming??

"Oh, you know!" she said dismissively. I could see Ron and Harry waving vigorously for her to shut up and be her normal self, but she continued determinedly. "Being late...making mistakes...it happens in life!" She waved a hand explanatorily. "I'm afraid I was otherwise occupied, Professor, and I didn't see the time go by."

"Or hear the bell ring?" cut in Snape delicately.

"I'm afraid not." The smile faded from her face as she met his eyes somewhat fearlessly. "My apologies, Professor."

There was a tensed moment when everyone looked from the quiet Potions Master to strange Hermione Granger, who had lost her mind, poor thing, when Snape suddenly straightened, and cleared his throat.

"Your tardiness will be overlooked this time, Miss Granger," he said crisply, looking dismissively at his fingernails. "But not the next. Please take a seat and don't waste any more of our time."

Hermione stood there in shock for a moment, eyeing him in disbelief, when he turned and raised a single eyebrow at her. "I thought I told you to stop wasting our time, Miss Granger."

She huffed, and stomped into the classroom, taking her seat by The Slut (Pansy) with such vicious vengeance that I pitied the chair.

Snape's eyes lingered on her for a moment before he looked away. "Well," he said to the class in general softly, "Unless your cauldrons are situated near my face, I advise you to get on with your work."

There was a flutter as everyone hurriedly picked up their ingredients and pretended to set to work immediately, but I could tell a lot of people stared in disbelief at Hermione, who was studying her textbook studiously, the red spreading from her cheeks down all the way to her neck.

"Hmm," Draco mused by my side, and I stiffened. When I looked at him, he was gazing at his godfather thoughtfully. "Strange."

I frowned at the cauldron in front of us, smoking serenely as it contained the liquid of last class's work. "Hermione, too," I mused, almost to myself. "She's been so..._mad_, lately."

Draco snorted softly. "I doubt that her madness is a recent happening." When I looked at him, he was smirking slightly. "I happen to have first-hand experience of her mental instability."

"Oh, yeah!" I laughed. "She slapped you!"

Draco rolled his eyes, his cheeks coloring slightly. "Rings a bell?"

"Oh, come on. A girl slapping Draco Malfoy's arrogant gob. That's not likely to be forgotten very soon."

Draco grinned unwillingly, his gray eyes alight with humor. "Does it help my case to say that it didn't really hurt?"

"Absolutely not."

He sighed in mock regret. "Ah, I thought so."

"But what do you think _is_ up with Snape?" I probed curiously. "You know him pretty well, right?"

Suddenly, his eyes hardened, closed off. He raised an eyebrow, reaching for a little bottle containing an acidic green liquid.

"Yeah, I happen to know him pretty well," he answered dismissively, glancing into the cauldron. "But that, unfortunately for you, doesn't mean I'm about to discuss him with the likes of _you._"

I sighed. We were back to square one.

Suddenly, Hermione stood up from her seat at the back of the class. The class quieted again, looking at her curiously. I turned, and rose my eyebrows in outrage at her, but she shook her head, looking bravely at the Potions Master -who seemed very occupied with a scroll of parchment at his desk.

"Professor!" she said loudly, if a little breathlessly.

He looked up at her, and his black eyes were surprised, piercing. "Granger?"

"I'm afraid..." She paused, and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I don't feel very well today. I feel quite _sick_, actually."

Snape looked at her unfathomably. "So?"

"Can I be excused to go to the Hospital Wing?"

Snape looked at her for another moment before lowering his glittering eyes back down to the parchment. He sighed softly before he spoke, enunciating each little syllable delicately, yet indifferently. "I've had it with you, Miss Granger," he said pleasantly. "As far as I'm concerned, as long as you stop disrupting the class, you may do whatever you please."

Hermione blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I think you heard me quite well, Miss Granger."

I saw an angry flush appear on her cheeks as she glared at him in surprise, and—gulp—disappointment, before she flung her bag on her shoulders, and strode loudly out the class, banging the door behind her. Snape remained unmoved, gently turning the page on whatever it was he was reading.

"Whoa," I heard Drew say from behind me. "What is that all about?"

"Are you going to turn into Detective Drew now?" Blaise said amusedly. "Solve the mystery of the Deranged Potions Class?"

"Oh, please. You're even lamer than I am, and I didn't think that was possible."

"I adore proving you wrong, Moreno." He paused for a moment, before adding pointedly, "_Darling_."

Draco glanced back, humored, at the bickering two—or at least, in Drew's case it was bickering, while Blaise looked like he was having the time of his life—and then looked at me, raising an amused eyebrow.

"They really like each other a lot, don't they?" I said, grinning.

"Don't be ridiculous. I have to rescue Blaise before your friend murders him."

He looked at me then, his eyes still amused. "That boy," he said quietly, almost to himself, "thinks he knows what he's doing." He laughed quietly, but it faded, ending in a sigh. "He has no idea." He frowned, and his eyes met mine steadily. "But," he continued, "then again, neither do I."

He looked at me wordlessly for a few endless seconds, his gaze taking my breath away.

What did he mean? If it was about his love-life, well, _that_ was successful enough, when he wanted it to be. My fingers clenched again as I remembered Pansy telling me of his snogging expertise.

I wished he'd stop doing that...

"You have no idea about _anything!_" I snapped, trying not to sound petulant. "So that doesn't make any difference."

"So says Weasley, whose knowledge base extends far beyond comprehension."

"I may not be Einstein," I allowed with mock reluctance,"but I do know," I added, taking in the humored look on his handsome face, the playful light in his gray eyes, "that you're not as stuck-up as you always are, today."

He blinked in surprise, and frowned thoughtfully. His silver eyes turned brooding, and he was silent for a few moments. "Maybe," he said vaguely.

I laughed, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, now, Weasley," he said finally. "Let's get this bloody potion done."

"Hey." I held up my hands. "I'm all set."

"All right, then." His voice took on a businesslike tone as he shot out instructions. "Get the Leacherous Roots—the scaly purple ones, in case you don't know—and cut them into small cubes. They'll have to be stewed later."

I got out the cutting board and the knife, grinning up at him as I began chopping. Meanwhile, his beautiful hands got to work, as he finely sifted some glittering powder into the cauldron, allowing it to sizzle for a moment before be picked up a ladle and stirred, all the while looking supremely bored.

In the silence, I suddenly thought of The Slut again—Pansy With The Mile-Long Cleavage, of course. I watched him, arrogant, beautiful, and brilliant as he was, and thought: '_Is he freaking crazy? That bitch SUCKS, boy. She sucks, and not in the good way, either._'

We spent the next few minutes working in silence, and I was thrilling all over at his vicinity, especially when he bent lower into the cauldron to sniff something, or he leaned over me to get some ingredients. I spent a few moments gazing at his wonderful fingers again when he sprinkled some Essence of Brungle, and I helped stew the cauldron for a while. And when he finished it, I really wanted to keep my hand over his, on the cauldron handle, to see how my fingers would fit against his large hand.

And, once every few minutes, he would glance sideways at me, as if to check what I was doing. And I would be struck dumb (or _dumber_, I should say) by his hypnotic, silver-grey eyes.

"It's a funny turn of events, isn't it?" I mused, half to myself, and somewhat to distract myself from Draco by conversation.

"What?" he murmured absently, peering into the cauldron and emerging from it a moment later, his nose slightly wrinkled, to look piercingly at me.

"This." I gestured to him and me. "Us. Actually having a halfway civil conversation." I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear thoughtfully, gazing at my hands. "I mean...come on, you've always been such a total _jerk._"

I heard a low laugh, and I glanced quickly at Draco to find him sitting back, looking very amused. "But, Weasley," he commented, "you can't imagine how much _effort_ it takes me, to not be such a 'total jerk', as you so nicely put it. It quite wears me out, actually." He pretended to sigh tiredly.

"I see," I laughed. "Keep up the good work, as long as it doesn't kill you."

There was another silence while I brooded, shooting him reproachful glances. Finally, I sighed, and spoke. "You know, if you ask me, Pansy Parkinson deserves to be put behind bras. I do _not_ commend your taste."

He look at me, astonished, before he smirked wickedly. "That's very useful to know, thank you," he said. "And why, Weasley," he added devilishly, "how was _your_ evening? By the looks of what I saw yesterday," he gave a mocking little snort, "you must have had the time of your life."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" I demanded, still wincing from the memory.

_It's natural,_ I'd been telling myself. _You have a crush on him; it's natural to feel jealous, for it to hurt. It's natural..._

Draco held my gaze steadily, eyes piercing, the smirk on his lips twisting slightly. "I must admire Potter's scheming," he continued. "To have both his best friend _and_ adoring girlfriend in his Quidditch team...offers a lot of potential, doesn't it?" He turned again to the cauldron, stirring slowly, allowing his words to sink in, I supposed.

A wild flush heated my face as I stared incredulously at him.

"Once you get rid of the best friend," he continued breezily, "the possibilities are endless...wouldn't you say?"

"You're one to talk," I snapped, my voice shaking with sudden anger, "what with all your _slutty_ advents at various corners of the school. You and Pansy manage time quite creatively, I suppose?"

He leant into me slowly, until I stared right into those lovely, hard grey eyes. "Overly defensive," he whispered. "Did I touch a nerve, Weaslette?"

He leant away, and sneered. "Oh, Weasley. _My_ slutty advents are truly..." he paused thoughtfully. "_Fun._ And natural to me. I can have a 'slutty advent' whenever I please, you see, and with whomever I please." He smirked. "It's quite an advantage, let me tell you. But with you, however..." He shook his head lightly. "Managing that with a person like Potter...it's quite commendable."

The blood pounded through my ears, and I couldn't tell why this made me so mad, so...frustrated. This assumption of his. I wanted to kick him, punch him, take away that bitter smirk from his face.

The bell tolled, and as the class fidgeted, gathering books and parchment, I stood up. For a stiff, tense moment, I stood there, not looking at him.

"You're an arse, Draco Malfoy," I said finally.

I turned, and made my way out the class—I could swear, though, that Pansy approached the table the minute I'd left.

* * *

"I saw you, Ginny Weasley," Drew teased. "I _saw_ you...cozying up with that hottie over the cauldron."

"Cozying up over the cauldron?" I repeated in outrage. "Drew, I am going to _kill_ you! We were _not_—just because he started out being halfway _human_ today—" I paused, glaring daggers at her. "And it didn't last, let me tell you."

We were on our way to lunch, following the crowd; Drew had caught up to me as I'd fled after Potions class.

"What do you mean, it didn't last?"

"I called him an arse," I said with some grim satisfaction.

"Well _done,_ my friend!" she laughed. "The way to get into any man's heart—call him an arse. It _always_ works, I'm sure. _Oops—_sorry, Smith."

Drew had walked into a certain curly-haired Ravenclaw boy, who was patting his tight-fitting robes in horror, casting us outraged looks.

"Watch where you're going!" Zacharias Smith said hotly. "Now you've almost completely _ruined_ my hair!"

"Sorry, Smith," Drew snickered. "But don't worry, your hair's fine."

"Are you sure?" he demanded vitally, patting his head in desperation. "And it took _ages_ this morning, too..."

"Yeah. It's perfect. In tiptop condition."

"That's good." He looked supremely relieved. "You ladies going to lunch, I presume?"

"Yep," I answered, "aren't you?"

"No," replied Zacharias Smith primly. Then he blushed. "Er...Moreno...you wouldn't happen to know where Draco is, would you?"

Drew threw me an amused glance before replying, "Um, no. We left him with Parkinson in the Potions dungeons."

His eyes grew round with horror. "With...with _Parkinson?_" he exclaimed brokenly. "Pansy Parkinson?! That terrible _girl!_"

Drew reached out and patted the boy's shoulder briskly. "Sorry, mate. That's the way it is." She tugged at my hand. "We'll be going to lunch, then..."

And we left him behind us, as we muffled our snickers until we were out of earshot.

"Whatever you say, Gin," Drew gasped finally as we reached the Hall, "I'd say you have a better chance than _that_ poor poof."

"I sure as hell hope so, Drew. I sure as hell do."

* * *

I watched him discreetly at dinner, as he ignored The Slut at his side, eating cheesy pasta primly, sipping from his goblet. He looked beautiful, as usual, I guess, in his dark robes, his silver hair gleaming golden in the light, the chiseled face cold and compelling, even from the distance.

"Ginny!" Drew's voice broke into my fantasies of having those lovely, talented hands off his in illegal places of my body—or of my being that goblet he was drinking so deeply from. "_Tell_ me!"

"Tell you what?"

"I _need _to play a prank of some sort on that _prat,_" she explained feelingly. "Something that will make him _writhe_ in humiliation. What should I do?"

"You're talking Blaise, right?"

"I prefer to call him The Prat, actually."

"I don't know..." my attention was suddenly deviated as Draco's eyes suddenly flicked away from his plate, seeming to fix directly, on..._me._ In shock, I stared into the piercing, stormy eyes—his face was expressionless as he watched me silently from his corner.

"Ginny!" Drew called out again. "Hello? Ginny! Are you done eating?"

I looked away, dazed, at her. Her blue eyes were expectant. "Um...yeah."

"Then let's _go! _Why are you sitting there, staring around like an _idiot?_ Gosh."

"What?" I argued defensively as we stood up, made our way out of the Hall. "Can't I stare around if I want you? You're the one that said 'gawk and let gawk', Moreno."

* * *

_Ugh. I can't get to sleep. I just can't. I have chronic insomnia, and the only person that can cure it is a certain blond, silver-eyed, beautiful Slytherin...'arse'. Yeah, right. Pansy would know more about that than me. His arse, I mean. I'm digressing..._

_The night is quiet, but it doesn't let me sleep. I've tried, and I guess it must be nearly midnight by now, but I hate tossing and turning, being awoken each time by the image of a pair of stormy, lovely eyes in my head. I don't like it. I don't like it at all, dear diary, and I have no idea what to do._

_I hate how he makes me feel so...so _bloody_ vulnerable. That's what I hate. That I feel he can hurt me, if he wants to...Remember what he said? 'I can have a slutty advent with whomever I like'. That's probably what he sees me as, or would see me as, if he knew that I...that I, well, liked him. Yeah. Go on. Laugh. Ha ha ha, right? _

_Because I do. Beneath the beauty, and the arrogance, the cold wall of rudeness the prick's built around himself, he really is...I don't know what he is. But he's _something.

_Gah. This is doing me no good. I need to get out. I think I'll go on one of my expeditions. Outside, I mean. It's the only way to get my mind off things..._

_Ta, diary. Ta. _

I got out my Invisibility Hat—the one Fred had got me—and crept out of the dorms, through the corridors. I whispered the door opened, and ventured out into the grounds quietly, finding the little row of mossy steps that led down to the lake. I took off the hat, sighed, and sat down.

It was cold; the air piercing my skin with little bites, making my hair stand on end. The sky seemed very, very dark, no hint of blue in the midnight, the stars sprinkled liberally over like crushed diamonds over an onyx floor. The starlight glinted off the serene, black water of the lake, occasionally sparkling over a tiny little ripple. The strange hum of crickets sounded in the air, and the odd rustle of breeze touching the grass, but, like I said, it was a quiet night.

Too quiet.

But I did _not_ want to go to sleep right now, and be chased by that blond git. I'd much rather stay here. This was a frequent habit of mine, cultivated since that fatal first year—I came out when I wanted to think, be alone, and wanted to feel like I were in my own world, with no one from real life to intrude.

The question swirled around in my mind—what were my feelings toward Draco Malfoy?

Well, it sure as hell was an infatuation. A crush the size of Ron's feet. And then there was that peculiar softening...as if I saw right through Draco's icy outside; saw a reason for it.

I tried to imagine how it must have been for him—the War. I knew the theory, that he'd been a Death Eater, and then he'd become a traitor to Voldemort, and secretly informed members of the Order about Voldy's plans. I knew that he'd fought for _us_ that day, the day Lord Voldemort had been finished for ever by Harry Potter.

I knew that his father was in Azkaban right now, and that his mother was in hiding—goodness knew where. I knew that he lived alone now, in that large Manor of his.

But...how would he have felt? What would he have _gone_ through?

It was a big question, all right. And suddenly, I felt I wanted to know. I wanted to know what life had been like for him, what he'd felt, how he'd coped. I wanted to know, to understand, _him._

The silence was unnerving. It felt like my thoughts were too loud, bouncing around in my skull, making my head ache. I decided I wanted some company of my own; sighing, I whipped out my wand, and cast out my Patronus.

I frequently did this, too; my Patronus wasn't just a Patronus to me. I'd learnt how to cast one from one of Harry's DA classes, and somehow, trying to cope with all the loss, the death, of the war, I used to think of the happiest things in my life. And my Patronus seemed to represent all that, at the time—when I was miserable, when I missed Fred, my Patronus kind of reminded me what I could be happy about.

It was a small, slender thing, with delicate paws and lithe, nimble feet that blurred over the ground as it ran merrily around me, it's small face and starry eyes glimmering up at me. But sweet as it looked, I'd always felt there was an innate fierceness about it, a sort of power that was undeniable.

I suppose it was a cat, by the way. And do _not_ compare me with that Umbridge woman. My cat was nothing like hers.

I stared at it, thoughtful. The silver of it's fur could only remind me of one thing, right now. I needn't mention it, need I?

But suddenly, I heard a movement behind me, and I jumped, twisting backwards in shock. I heard the Patronus disappear with a little pop.

My eyes turned round, and my jaw dropped open. And his own face froze in similar astonishment.

"_Draco!"_

"Ginny?"

I tried to remember how to shut my mouth, and surreptitiously drew my nightgown tighter around myself, as I stared up at Draco Malfoy, standing on the top step. He was still in the same white shirt he'd worn all day—evidently, he hadn't even tried sleeping.

And, judging by the expression of surprise on his face as his eyes roved across my body, he hadn't noticed that I'd called him by his first name in my astonishment—or that he'd called me by mine.

My throat dried, and my heart flew up to it at the sound of his beautiful voice saying it.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "All alone, this late?"

I bristled a little at his tone. "I could ask the same of you, Malfoy."

He stared for another moment, and then smirked. "True."

And then, to my intense surprise, he walked over, and sat at the step below mine—so he was just a little bit shorter than me. I could see the soft breeze catch his silver-blond hair, and then he turned to look up at me. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked casually.

"No," I said breathlessly. "Not at all."

He looked away, a small, thoughtful frown marring his smooth forehead, and my breath caught, my heart pounding, as I watched him. He was so beautiful, in the dim moonlight.

I was getting ridiculously soppy thoughts—something like running my hands through his hair, touching his silvery face—and I felt like seeing if my foot was flexible enough to swing right up and kick me in the face.

This had to be stopped.

"What _are_ you doing here?" I asked him.

He glanced up at me, eyes brooding. "I come here, take a walk, sometimes, when I can't sleep," he explained softly. "I rarely find other people here..." He raised a questioning eyebrow at me.

"Oh, well." I laughed quietly. "You're not the only one who can't get to sleep."

_And you are the reason I can't sleep,_ I felt like accusing, _it's because of you I'm in this state in the first place, and you say you can't sleep, either._

_Irony, much?_

It was like this morning had never happened—like I hadn't felt that bitter jealousy that I had. Somehow, as I sat by him, this cool, beautiful night, it seemed perfectly natural—and, by the excited, feverish thumping of my heat, perfectly wonderful.

His eyes were on the glimmering surface of the lake, the satiny blanket of water that it was.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I murmured.

Draco turned, and his stormy eyes fell on me, lingering at my face with a strange expression. "Beautiful," he agreed.

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter was unbelievably hard to write because over the last 10-12 months, I've tried to write this at least seven times and deleted each version. Writer's block SUCKS, as you all know.

And then, when I finished writing, this chapter was SO long! I deleted a lot of scenes, that will come in the next chapter.

My favorite part in this is the appearance of Zacharias Smith. ^_^

And like I said, a special thanks to Kim for her thoughts and advice! :D

Be sure to review, people! Reviews make me **tremendouslyhappy. :)**

**~starlit skyes~ **


	6. Moonlight And Pink Frocks

**A/N: **Thank you so much for the wonderful response, people! Again, this one came along simply because of your reviews. I'm so glad you like this. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you.

Oh, and for those of you who are itching for a kiss_—_don't worry, it's coming, as you'll see by the end of this. ^_^ The song is simply brilliant, btw. I totally recommend it.

Another thing: I know the movies say that Ginny's Patronus is a horse, but I don't like it. u_u I've changed it.

* * *

_The razors and the dying roses  
Plead I don't leave you alone,  
The demi-gods and hungry ghosts  
Oh god, god knows I'm not at home,  
I'll never find someone quite like you again  
I'll never find someone quite like you again..._

_I looked into your eyes and saw  
A world that does not exist,  
I looked into your eyes and saw,  
A world I wish I was in.  
I'll never find some quite as touched as you..._

_**- Touched, by VAST**_

_**

* * *

**_

_His eyes were on the glimmering surface of the lake, the satiny blanket of water that it was._

_"Beautiful, isn't it?" I murmured._

_Draco turned, and his stormy eyes fell on me, lingering at my face with a strange expression. "Beautiful," he agreed._

The moon glinted off the tiny ripples in the lake, and I sighed audibly, confused.

How could I not be confused, right? Life was just bloody confusing. Here I was, sitting here in the moonlight with none other then the famous Draco Malfoy himself, commenting on the _scenery_, for Merlin's sakes, and battling extremely violent desires to just knock him down and have my evil woman way with him.

I shook my head, and sighed again.

"Weasley," Draco said suddenly, his voice wondering. I glanced at him, to find his curious gray eyes on me.

"Before I got here..." he began slowly, frowning, "I thought I saw something with you. Something bright."

"Huh?" I blinked at him once before I understood. "_Oh_!"

He raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

"That was, er..." I blushed slightly. I'd never told anyone about my strange habits regarding my Patronus before. "That was my Patronus."

He looked surprised, pale eyebrows drawing together. "You summoned your Patronus here? Why?"

I shrugged. "For company."

He waited silently, gazing at me seriously, as if waiting for me to continue. I don't know, just him, sitting there, so close to me...the moonlight cast a sliver of light across his pale face, and his eyes glinted silver, his every chiseled feature softened by the dim light. He was beautiful.

Call me a pushover, but it really threw me.

"I do that sometimes," I admitted, glancing away. "It was something I started...after last year..." I heard his sharp intake of breath at my reference to the war.

Wow. He was a lot more sensitive to it than _I _was.

"I guess it really did cheer me up," I continued, and I looked at him now, to find him frowning at me, eyes probing, intense, like he was trying to understand something more than what I was saying. "It was like having a pet."

He was quiet for a while, before he asked quietly, "Can you summon it again?"

"Why?" I wondered.

He rolled his eyes. "I want to play with it."

I laughed. "All right." I easily came up with my happy memory—it was my tenth birthday, with all of us gathering around the table, around the cake Fred had bewitched so that the first bite would turn into mud in all our mouths, the laughter and the fun of that day—and quickly, my little Patronus zoomed out of the tip of my wand, gamboling lithely in the grass again, glowing, pretty.

Draco gazed at it thoughtfully, and after a few short minutes, it faded again.

He said nothing for a few moments, merely staring broodingly across at the lake, before he said suddenly, "Do you know what it is?"

I gave a little laugh. "A cat?"

A hint of a smirk danced around his lips, and he rolled his eyes. "God, Weasley, how thick are you?"

"What?" I said defensively. "It is a cat. It's...catty." I felt like kicking myself, but that's the best way I could explain it. "And it meows, and purrs, sometimes."

He shook his head, smirking amusedly now. "Weasley, it's not just a cat. It's a very rare cat." He snickered. "You should feel flattered you don't have the garden cat that Umbridge had."

"I do," I said seriously. "My Patronus has _nothing_ in common with that toad's." I paused. "What do you mean, it's rare?"

His smirk turned a little mirthless. "It's called an Eyra. Once, when I was a kid, we'd gone on this...holiday...with my grandparents, to South America. We spent a lot of time in Venezuela, exploring the forests, the fields. We were lucky enough to see a lot of wild cats there. Eyra is one of them."

I stared at him, surprised. It was a really unexpected little snatch of his past—heck, _himself_—that I'd just heard. It took me awhile for my heart to calm down, for my blood to cool, for me to speak normally.

"Eyra," I repeated. "Sounds pretty."

He glanced at me, grinned. "It's a kind of jaguarundi. They call it a _leoncillo—_which means _little lion. _Small, sleek, very fast..." He looked away again, at the spot where the brightness of the Patronus had faded. "The one I saw was very...fierce. And its silver now, but..." His voice was quiet as he remembered. "Really, it's fur is this beautiful shade of red. Fiery red." He smirked, a little mischievously, at me. "I guess it suits you and your carroty mane, Weasley."

"Hey, don't insult my titian locks!" I tossed my hair in his face, and he leant away, wrinkling his nose slightly, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. "And carrots are orange, you color-blind fool."

"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be honest to a fault," he commented dryly. "I _assumed_ that included being honest with themselves."

"So what about you, pretty boy?" I challenged. "You, with your girlie, pretty hair."

He snorted. "It runs in the family, Weasley. And you wouldn't call my father girlie, would you?"

The words were said lightly enough, but, as always, the mention of Lucius Malfoy made me stiffen, made a little shiver run through me. Draco's eyes were piercing on me, and suddenly, abruptly, he just stood up.

I battled with my sudden disappointment. Scratch that—it was more than disappointment. "Leaving?" I said, trying to sound casual, and failing miserably.

He smirked tightly, eyes suddenly hard. "I think I'm ready to sleep now." His gaze lingered on me for a moment. "Well," he said finally, turning away, "thanks for the chit-chat, Weasley."

And gracefully, he stalked away into the darkness of the castle, and I swore under my breath.

"Stupid confusing little git."

I stood up, sighing, and made my own way toward the castle. It was time for me to get some shut-eye, too. Or I'd be a walking zombie tomorrow.

* * *

I _was_ something akin to a walking zombie the next day. I swayed my way into breakfast, wondering why I'd even bothered to wake up this early when Drew was still snoozing soundly, but let's face it; I can't sleep. I'm an insomniac, and I'd go on like this until I got horrid bags under my eyes, got all creepy pale, and started swooning all over the place, drooling over my desk in class.

Wow. I was seriously going off the wrong end this morning.

Draco wasn't at breakfast, but our table was nearly full, and as I approached it, I spotted Harry, who waved energetically at me. I sighed, and made my way towards him.

Harry's green eyes were a little too intense as he drew out the chair for me. "It's nice to see you this morning, Ginny," he said seriously.

I rolled my eyes. "You see me every morning."

He said nothing, merely shrugging, but I sensed a certain tension in his shoulders. See, I knew Harry very well. I knew when something was up.

But I was in no mood for nonsense today, and I decided that I would wait it out.

I glanced at him again the same moment that he spoke, which was much sooner than I'd expected; he was _such_ a Gryffindor...

He'd picked up a pitcher of apple juice. "Ginny," he said awkwardly, staring at me in a certain wide-eyed way I'd learnt to grow wary of. He was trying to pour apple juice into his goblet with his eyes on me, and this resulted in him pouring it into his bowl of cereal instead.

"Damn it," he swore, flushing, and I shook my head at him, before starting to shovel porridge into my mouth. I'd already finished my customary three spoonfuls of jam, again imagining that it wasn't just cold metal beneath my tongue.

"Ginny," he said again, and his voice was defensive, harder now. I turned to him, to find his eyes determined.

"What is it, Harry?" I glanced at his cereal. "You know, that actually looks kinda good. Maybe I should try it..."

I looked at the Slytherin table again. _Why_ wasn't Draco at breakfast yet? Sleeping late? Or...otherwise occupied? My eyes narrowed viciously at the thought of what could be keeping him away from here...or _who._

He shouldn't, he couldn't, he _didn't! _Oh, _come on_, no! It wasn't fair.

I gritted my teeth. Maybe I really should have listened to mum, and taken those yoga classes she'd nearly bullied me into. Some meditation could really help me.

"Listen to me, Ginny," Harry said, sounding annoyed now.

"Sorry." I felt oddly dazed, wacky. "Sorry, Harry, what did you want to say?"

He glared at me until I met his eyes. "I have to talk to you about that Slytherin bastard, Ginny."

"What Slytherin bastard?" Hey, it could be Zabini. He was, after all, the one with the mother who had husbands like flavors of the month.

_Ginny_! I yelled at myself internally. _That was a catty thought!_

"Draco Malfoy, Ginny," Harry said through his teeth.

Big surprise.

But I had to admit I felt a little tingly at the sound of our names together. It matched, in a strange sort of way. And Ron was wrong—_Draco_ is such a fascinating name! Very...epic.

Have I mentioned I get _really_ slaphappy when I haven't got enough sleep?

"What do you mean?" I demanded of Harry, just as he was stubbornly reaching over me to grab a banana from the bowl of fruit in the middle of the table.

"Look, Ginny," Harry said dangerously as he started to carefully peel the banana, "if that git gives you any trouble—_any_ kind of trouble at all—I swear, Gin, I'll beat him up." Harry took a furious bite of his banana. "You should tell me, you really should. If you need _any_ sort of help, Ginny—"

My attention was _completely_ on Harry now—something that hadn't really taken place for the last six months or so. Before I turned on him in wrathful tones, I noticed that his hair really was kind of shaggy now...Harry was in need of a haircut. But it looked adorable this way, too.

"Why would you think that at all, Harry?" I exclaimed in disbelief. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?" I could feel my own face turning red. Because why would Draco Malfoy give me trouble? He'd never expressed preference—whether in making snide remarks OR snogging senseless—to me in any way at all.

Instead, he was probably getting some hot stuff with Pansy Parkinson or some other bimbo akin to her back in the dungeons right now. I suppressed a little shudder, and raised an eyebrow expectantly at Harry.

"He's not good for you, Ginny! Call it intuition, or whatever..." Harry frowned, scratched his head in some frustration. "But I get a feeling something's going on between you two. And I'll do anything to keep you from getting hurt, Gin—I'll punch his nose into his skull, I'll—"

"Get your army of goombahs and march into his lair with maces?" I supplied sarcastically. "Please, Harry. There is nothing going on between me and Draco Malfoy, and you aren't going to 'beat up' _anyone_. Sit tight and eat your breakfast, and don't worry about me."

Harry opened his mouth, revealing half-chewed banana, to respond violently to this, but I held up a finger for him to shut up, pushed away my porridge, and made my way, fuming slightly, out of the Great Hall.

Draco Malfoy _still_ wasn't at breakfast.

* * *

The corridor was suffocatingly crowded, and Drew's tight grip on my arm only worsened the feeling of excitement that I really wasn't in the mood for at the moment.

However, I'd have to bear with it, because Drew's blue eyes positively _beamed_ with laughter and expectancy, and her nails dug painfully into my skin.

"Any moment now," she said gleefully. "Any moment..."

"Drew." I rolled my eyes. "See, I _get_ it that this whole pranking Blaise thing is more important than anything in the whole world...but _must_ we wait here for him here?"

Apparently, Drew had developed some sort of booby trap for her lover dearest—ahem—_Blaise_, which included some expert magic and a choice product from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. While I would usually _love_ to be an audience to this, today I was just exhausted. Walking zombie, remember?

She turned around to raise her eyebrows at me defiantly. "What are you suggesting?"

"That you do this when I'm not close to falling asleep on my toes and drooling all over the ground. I'm tired, Drew."

"Well." She shrugged, turned away nonchalantly. "This should be just the kind of rejuvenating experience you need, then."

I sighed, nodded my consent. The alternative seemed something comparable to telling Ron not to pick his nose in public; in short, a failed attempt.

But on cue, Blaise strolled gracefully into the Great Hall, flanked by Nott and some fat bloke I don't know the name of.

"_Yes,_" I heard Drew hiss beside me.

I had no idea what she had planned, except that it just better be good.

We drew closer to Blaise's table, watching intently, hid behind a pillar near the wall, as he smoothly made his way towards the other Slytherins. He was smirking broadly, as per usual, pausing to wink flirtatiously at a Ravenclaw girl who was staring after him longingly.

All these Slyths...they just _loved_ themselves, didn't they?

Suddenly, Drew stepped out of our corner, grinning at Blaise. At that very moment, there was a loud bang that made everyone gasp and turn around, a very bright flash of orange light, and some choking mist that smelled like something that reminded me of Auntie Ruth's socks. A lot of people swore loudly, searching with watery eyes for the source of the distraction.

Just as the mist cleared, a loud "_Oooooooooooooh_!" chorused around the Hall, because, evidently, they saw it before I did.

Blaise Zabini stood in the middle of the Great Hall, frowning worriedly...and dressed in an extremely frilly, tiny little pink frock.

The laughter echoed around the walls, and Drew waved cheerfully at Blaise when she caught his eye. She snorted triumphantly.

He looked down at himself, gasped comically, and dramatically flapped his hands around his chest. I had to hand it to the guy; he didn't even blush.

"Oh my God!" Blaise drawled. "Look at me!"

He spread his arms out, making the crowd laugh even harder. He glanced back at Drew, smirked.

"Drew, honey?"

Oh, I couldn't _wait_ for this.

"Yeah?" Drew stepped forward, grinning broadly.

Blaise gestured seriously to his body, then shrugged helplessly. "Darling, if you really wanted me half-naked, you just had to ask!" He fingered the frock absently, then grinned devilishly at her, and suggestively wet his lips. "You wouldn't even have to say 'please'..."

"You—" Drew flushed deep red; of course, once pissed off, Drew would be useless. "I didn't mean—UGH!"

Blaise looked pleased, and gathered the skirts delicately as he made his way towards the table. Once there, he casually waved his wand at himself, and the dress vanished; the robes were back. Drew swore venomously at my side.

"But," Blaise added slyly as he sat down, "in a quid pro quo situation, of course..." He ran his eyes down Drew approvingly. "Darling," he added mischievously.

"Quid pro quo my _arse_!" she exclaimed loudly, before flipping the bird violently in the air in a crude upward movement, like she meant to shove it into a very tight orifice. She grabbed my arm again, swearing under her breath, and dragged me out of the Great Hall.

"Come on!" I protested weakly as I stumbled in her wake, presumably to the Common Room. "It went well! I mean...the frock was pretty, wasn't it?"

"Pretty," she muttered savagely. "Quid pro quo. I want to kill him. With a salad fork. Slowly. Torturously."

"But that would take a long time! And what's wrong?"

"He's always so _confident_, Ginny!" she burst out, stomping ahead even faster now. I expected to hear a whistle and some steam any moment now. "Nothing I do can..._shake_ him! Embarrass him! Did you _see_ him? He wasn't even _bothered_!"

"He's Slytherin," I said reasonably. "You can't expect him to stammer and swoon."

"_Why_ the heck not? YELLOW TWEED!" she yelled the password at the Fat Lady, who gave her an offended glance, patted her hair, and swung open solemnly.

The Common Room was empty, yet again, except for Hermione, who seemed to be studying intently by the fire.

"I'm going to bed!" Drew said angrily, and stalked out of sight. I sighed, and made my way toward Hermione.

"Where's Ron and Harry?" I questioned conversationally.

"They went to bed," Hermione said absently, turning a page. "Boys. They always get sleepy whenever I want them to test me."

"Test you?"

"Yeah. Can you?" she turned to me, suddenly excited. She held out her book. "Ask me the questions, will you? You're free enough!"

"Okay," I said reluctantly, taking the textbook from her gingerly, like it could bite. Education instead of sleeping didn't go too well with me.

I should have just escaped, but Hermione...oh, well.

"The ingredients of a Befuddlement draught..." I read out as a frowned. I glanced up at her. "Why are you studying Potions?"

"He might ask us questions tomorrow," she said hopefully. "You know, Se—Professor Snape. I like to be prepared."

"Of course you do," I muttered, looking down at the book again. "Right. So what are the ingredients of a Befuddlement draught?"

"Sugar and pepper," she said promptly.

I snorted loudly. "Yeah, Hermione, now pull the other leg."

"Sugar and pepper," she repeated.

I raised my eyebrows as far as they would rise. "Um, Mione, it's actually Scurvy-grass, Lovage, and Sneezeworth."

"I know," she responded calmly. "Now ask me the next one."

I gave her a look that clearly stated that a psychiatrist was in order, and sighing, read out the next question. "What color is the Draught of Living Death in it's half stage?"

"That's easy," she said smoothly, eyes glinting. She leant forward on her elbows and surveyed me steadily. "It's cow dung green."

"Jack _shit_!" I exclaimed. "Hermione—are you okay? Do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey? Because I—"

"What, is it wrong?" she asked innocently.

"It's black-current purple!"

"Sorry." She smiled pleasantly. "It appears I've been slacking. I'll try to catch up."

"You're saying the wrong answers on purpose!" I accused in horror. "You've lost it! Your brain has degenerated! You need help! MADAM POMFREY!"

"I don't," she disagreed, grinning a little evilly. "I like this, Ginny. I like being a little reckless, a little stupid. And..." she sighed. "Well, it's seems the only way to get things done." She paused for a moment, before clearing her throat, and saying briskly, "So that's that."

She grabbed the book from me, shutting it with a snap.

"When was the last time you were reckless?" I wondered. "That time you slapped Draco Malfoy?"

"Yeah, probably," she said reminiscently. "And, speaking of—Lavender was talking about it today. How's the dare going?"

A little fist clenched itself around my heart. "It's...going, I suppose. It's just...everything's so...strong, you know? Like kicking a wall. It hurts, it's oddly satisfying, and it's confusing as hell. No, it's more like running headlong into a wall."

I promptly shut up, realizing how much of an idiot I was.

She looked at my face shrewdly for a moment, before saying, "Remember, Ginny. It's a dare."

I snorted. "You think I'm likely to forget?"

"No, but..." She stood up. "You're taking this more seriously than I assumed you would, and..." She hung her bag over her shoulder. "And, well, it's just a dare. Nothing more. Just a game...a joke. Remember?"

Smiling, she waved me goodnight and disappeared out the stairs. I sighed, because now my head was far too full of thumping, bouncing little thoughts. I really _was_ becoming an insomniac.

I decided I'd make my way toward the kitchens and get a glass of warm milk—Molly Weasley's prescription for sleepless children.

I made my way out of the Common Room, sighing again. There were still people around the halls—evidently, being an insomniac when it was only around 10 o' clock wasn't such a big deal—but I went quietly, and was just going to take the staircase below the Great Hall, when an incredulous, painfully familiar voice said, "Weasley? Well, this is forming a pretty little habit, isn't it?"

I gritted my teeth, whipped around. "I was going to the kitchens," I said lamely, before my mind internally did a dramatic gasp.

He stood there, piercing eyes and all, wearing heavy black leather boots, and clutching a very shiny broomstick.

He raised an eyebrow quizzically at me.

"That's...a...Bullet 1000!" I spluttered finally. "That's a _beautiful_, beautiful broomstick!"

Draco smirked, swung around the broom with some satisfaction. "I know."

"You're so lucky!" I moaned. "A Bullet 1000...it's so beautiful..."

"Flies like a dream," Draco said smugly. "Mother gave it to me for my seventeenth birthday."

I controlled my irrepressible jealousy enough to demand, "So you're going out for a fly right now?"

"No, Weasley. I plan to sweep the grounds with it. You know, with all those dry leaves, it's _such_ a mess right now..."

I rolled my eyes. "It's pretty dark out, Malfoy. What're you going to do now, fly to the moon?"

"I like to fly at night sometimes. It's...relaxing to me." He shrugged, glanced at me coolly. "We all have our quirks."

"I suppose we do," I agreed softly. His eyes glinted in the dim light, that suggestion of a smirk still lingering about his lips.

Slowly, he turned on his heel, and began to stroll away, but suddenly, he paused.

"You're a decent flyer, Weasley," he said slowly. I, of course, blushed.

"Yeah, I am," I said stoutly.

He debated for a moment, pursing his lips, and then his eyes gleamed. "Want to come along?" he queried softly.

"What?"

"Well, you seem free enough. If you wanted to tag along, maybe get your own little broom..." He raised an eyebrow expectantly. "You wouldn't be unwelcome."

My heart was thudding in my ears, and I swallowed. "Um, sure," I said in a small voice. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, why not? I could use a nice fly."

He smirked, jerked his head for me to follow, and strode ahead. Grinning, I kept up with his smooth, graceful walk, feeling like I'd eaten a hundred canaries.

When we were in the grounds, the grass violet beneath our feet, the sky velvety and warm, he paused.

"I wanted to show you something," he said abruptly. And, frowning, he pulled out his wand. In a moment, a something bright, brilliant, zoomed out of its tip.

It was a wolf. A powerful, graceful wolf, that tensed, eyes glowing. He shimmered in the night, the thousand different shades of gray in his fur sparkling, his eyes fierce and beautiful.

"My Patronus," Draco said softly. I glanced at him, to find his eyes on me, a peculiar expression in them. There was no way to describe it, except, well, _intense_, serious. He looked away, and as immediately as it had appeared, the wolf vanished.

I stared at the spot where the wolf had stood, tensed and alert, graceful and majestic. I swallowed.

"What do you think?" Draco asked me quietly, and when I looked at him, he was suddenly much too close to me. I could see the razor sharp angles of his face, how his eyes were so intent now, piercing through every layer of me, making me shiver slightly. I gazed up at him, shocked, when he took another step toward me silently.

"It's beautiful," I whispered.

He gazed at me wordlessly, but his eyes danced with a certain expectancy, excitement. My every pore tensed.

Hermione's words were suddenly echoing in my ears, too loud, too clear. It was a joke...but it wasn't very funny, was it?

* * *

**A/N: **Yay, another chapter over! I had a lot of fun writing it. I enjoyed having Blaise in a dress; as those of you who've read my one-shot "Lustfully Ever After" might remember, Blaise put Draco through some real torture in that one. This is payback time. ;p

Oh, and for some extra info on the jaguarundi: http:/ .org/ wiki / Jaguarundi It's also interesting because supposedly, an "eyra" is one of the only wildcats that look a lot like a weasel. ^_^

~starlit skyes


	7. Alligators, Chocolate and Some Snogging

**A/N: **I can't believe I'm updating this! I mean, it hasn't even been an entire year since the last one! :O

Anyway, I had one of those brainwave things at sat up till two in the morning finishing this_—_it was a lot of fun. *grins*

I think I'm quite happy with this, but since I haven't slept in nearly twenty hours, I may be very wrong. Tell me what you think, okay?

* * *

_I can touch your skin, but you aren't there,_  
_Frustration burns in me, it's more than I can bear,_  
_I wanna take you in my fists and squeeze the life back into you,_  
_But there is nothing I can do—you are gone..._  
_And I can hold you in my hands,_  
_But you've slipped away like a fistful of sand..._

_I can hold you in my hands,_

_But you've slipped away like a fistful of sand..._

___—_**Fistful of Sand, by the Bravery**

_

* * *

_

Draco edged closer and closer, and I could feel every limb of his against me. Yeah. Every limb. And I'd just noticed how _tall_ he was...not like I hadn't noticed before. It was just...hard to miss now.

Shit. Shit. Merlin's satin underwear. He was so _close_ to me...

He gazed down at me quietly, his gray eyes darkening, his lips parted slightly. They twisted, just a bit, into a suggestion of a smirk, and I gawked up at him with an expression that I was sure resembled a rabbit who was looking up at a butcher, knowing it was going to be beheaded and chopped up to be put into stew.

Wait, before you get the wrong idea_—_yes, I _have_ been kissed before.

"Talking of beautiful," murmured Draco, running a thumb lightly over my cheek. "You're not bad to look at yourself, Weasley."

His lips looked so _soft_! And so...edible. It looked like a lot of things, because it was suddenly so bloody close that I felt like I could write a poem on it right then.

"I was going to take a fly around the grounds tonight," mused Draco absently, still touching my face wonderingly. "But you know what?" His hands paused, two long fingers trailing lightly over my lips. "I think I can reschedule," he whispered.

He was going to kiss me.

Suddenly, a whole lot of images flashed through my head, the way I imagine it does when you're falling off a cliff and your whole life comes before your eyes. Except in this situation, I was an inch away from snogging Draco Malfoy, and my entire life seemed to consist solely of a certain disastrous dare.

The _dare._ Snog Draco, and you're off the hook. The Dare. Did I dare do the dare? No strings attached, right? If I kissed him right now, I was totally out of this abyss of sexual and emotional tension. If I kissed him now, I could be in the Common Room in an hour, giggling to all the girls about my new conquest. It would spread around the castle, how Ginny Weasley had kissed Draco Malfoy in the moonlight, and everyone would look at me with new eyes. Because that's what it would be...a conquest. Kiss and dis.

Draco's pale, beautiful face. It was so clear, so close. His long, hands at my face, his lovely gray eyes waiting. I thought of everything I'd found out about him lately, everything I'd noticed. I thought of the quiet sadness I'd seen in his eyes sometimes, the bitterness, the mysteries in those stormy eyes, between those gray clouds. I thought of the way my heart pounded whenever I thought of him; I thought of him outside my window, soaring through a night sky. Could I do that to him?

Sadly, my inner monologue was rather effectively interrupted by his finger tilting up my chin, and his lips coming down on mine.

Oh, God.

Yes, for a moment my thoughts were limited to that simple sentence, that simple plea for His mercy.

Draco's lips explored mine curiously, yet expertly, an edge of smoothness to them, while his hands were cool against my cheek as he held my face, the other hand running gently down my sides, to my hips.

I have no idea what I did. All I knew was...my eyes blinked open blearily sometimes, and I saw the dark charcoal of his eyes, before they fluttered shut again, and I gasped into the feel of his mouth, so soft, so warm, so persuasive and yet so...cool, almost unemotional. At the same time, I could feel his unsteady breathing, could see his searing, unfocussed eyes, his hands tightly winding into my hair, tilting my head back slightly as his lips moved against mine...

This was somewhat like the way he'd been devouring that fox Pansy against the wall that day. Quite similar, actually.

_It's just a joke, right? Just a dare. _

That's around when my hands, that were running over his chest_—_naughty little things, those hands_—_froze against his skin, and, giving a mangled sort of mixture of a shriek and a groan, I pushed him away with all the strength I possessed. One second his lips were hot on mine, and the next second...they were not.

"This is wrong!" I gasped, trying to pat my hair and pull my shirt and straighten my skirt at the same time. Since I didn't have three hands, I finally just settled on dropping the said hands to my sides and staring at tousled, confused, frustrated Draco in horror.

"This is _wrong_!"

Draco took a moment to breathe deeply, and ran a mildly shaky hand through his tousled hair. Finally he settled piercing eyes on mine. "Excuse me?"

All I could think of was the faces of many different females, each saying different, obnoxious things to me: Lavender, Pansy...Hermione, Drew. I could just about see their expressions.

Had I just done the dare? Had I? Had I?

"_No_!" I cried. "No, I didn't! I didn't! I didn't _snog_ him, I only...no..."

Draco gaped at me in almost comical confusion. It was almost funny. Almost. "What're you talking about?" he demanded. "Snog who?"

"Snog you, of course!" I said hysterically, wringing my hands. "I didn't! I didn't! Please tell me I didn't!"

He stared at me disbelievingly for another moment before drawling, "So what were we doing, Weasley? Discussing knitting patterns? Doing each other's hair?"

"That would've been a lot more preferable," I muttered, swallowing loudly, gazing around me like I'd suddenly find a deep hole into which I could bury myself. "I do a very nice Herringbone braid."

His mouth actually fell open. He raised his eyebrows at me in an expression almost akin to alarm. "Weasley," he said uncertainly. "Do you need to go to the, er, Hospital Wing? Because I_—_"

I'd been gazing at my shoes, shuffling around in agitation...don't ask me why I was agitated. I don't know. I whipped around to face him. "I didn't snog you!" I cried. "I did no dare, and I didn't do anything! And I..." I stared into his beautiful gray eyes. "I can't do it, not like that!"

"Goodnight!" I said in a strangely strangled voice, before turning, and I was just about to stomp into the castle when his voice, still slightly shaky, stopped me.

"Weasley."

I turned again. He was looking down at me steadily, all traces of humor gone from his face, his hair gleaming silver in the light. His eyes questioned mine mutely, the piercing, lovely pewter color of them burned into mine for a single moment before he straightened and shrugged gracefully, shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked.

"See you tomorrow," he said.

_Then_ I turned and stormed into the castle.

* * *

"...so Dean said, 'Why don't we try it _in_ the carpet?', and I was like, 'What? What can you possibly mean? Like, _on_ it?' Because that would make more sense..."

"You and Dean are so kinky, I'd never have thought," giggled Lavender as we ate breakfast the next morning. I rolled my eyes at them, sitting opposite me, giggling like...well, themselves.

"Wait, though, listen, there's more!" trilled Parvati. "I had no idea what he was doing, but then he pushed me down, came down all over me, and then something happened, and we got rolled into the carpet!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the carpet folded itself over us, you know, it rolled up!" clarified Parvati happily. "Dean was over me, and the carpet was tight around us, him on top of me, and slightly scratchy wool beneath me...that carpet, the one by the fire, it's not too big, you know, so we didn't have much space. It rolled into a tight little loop around us, and every time we moved, we spun across the room, the carpet rolling out as we went..."

"You know, a bed could seem like an entire country to you two," said Drew dryly. "And I'm never going to be able to sit by the fire again without having nightmares."

"We'll tell a House Elf to have it cleaned," said Lavender reasonably. "It should be okay, after about a dozen washes, or something."

"I wouldn't subject a House Elf to that sort of torture for anything," snapped Hermione suddenly from my right.

Parvati turned dark, annoyed eyes to Hermione, and said loftily, "Well, I'm not the one panting after Severus Snape."

"Snape?" Ron said, turning to look at Hermione in confusion. "What about Snape? Who's panting?"

Hermione flushed furiously. "Nothing, Ron, Parvati's just a little dazed this morning." She stood up smartly, snapping her bag over her shoulder. "Can't blame her, really. She can't have gotten much sleep last night, what with all those...carpets." And on that nice note, Hermione strode out of the Great Hall without another word, leaving my brother gazing after her, frowning.

"It's part of adolescence," I whispered to Ron. "She'll grow out of it."

When I entered the Potions dungeon later that morning, though_—_I almost didn't notice Draco sitting at our desk, gazing at me unreadably, such was the nature of my distraction_—_Hermione had certainly not grown out of her spell of adolescence.

For she was standing by the teacher's desk, speaking heatedly to one Severus Snape, who was leaning gracefully, all sleek and bat-like in his billowing black robes, talking to her in a silky, disinterested voice.

"...I still fail to understand, Miss Granger, why you're standards have plummeted so in my class," Snape was saying. "I do not usually tolerate such foolishness in this classroom_—_Essence of Didelio uses _fruit jelly_ as a primary ingredient? I think not_—_and cannot fathom why you have started to resemble a baboon."

I gawked.

Do my ears deceive me?

Had Snape actually said that? Had Snape, who usually ignored Hermione's raised hand of knowledge, insulted her when she said the answer, actually told her_—_actually noticed her abnormal behavior, and _compared her to a baboon?_

"Well, Professor, I'm afraid I find this subject distinctly nauseating nowadays!" Hermione said shrilly. "Forgive me if I don't succeed in convincingly pretending that I enjoy your classes!"

Snape's eyes gleamed. "You are crossing the line!" he hissed. "I have told you, Miss Granger, time and time again_—_this will not work, it can never work, please try to understand!"

Hermione stared up at him for a moment before saying softly, "Why can't _you_ understand? Why don't you even try?"

Snape looked evenly at Hermione for a long, long moment, his eyes seeming to sparkle, before saying quietly, flatly, "Return to your seat, Miss Granger, the class is due to begin. And if you don't improve the quality of your work, I will be forced to remove you from this class."

"Fine!" cried Hermione, and then she turned and stormed into her seat, glaring viciously at everyone who looked at her.

Stiffly, I met Draco's thoughtful eyes, and made my way towards him. Draco looked away from me, gazing speculatively at his godfather, who was still standing by his desk, looking intently down at his pale, spidery hands.

Snape seemed to wait_—_indeed, the class was only half-full_—_and in that time, it sunk in that I. Was. Sitting. Next. To. Draco. Malfoy.

When I'd done a clown on him last night.

When he'd kissed me last night.

Of course, these thoughts had only been temporarily shoved out because of what I'd just witnessed between Snape and Hermione, but now I felt like huge boulders were rolling down a mountain and bouncing painfully, one by one, on my head.

He'd kissed me last night.

And I...I...I'd done the dare, hadn't I? Since morning, I'd been able to think of nothing else, and yet, I'd told no one. I knew I never would. I could still remember, so clearly, the feel of his warm lips on mine...

And then what had I done? I'd said some nonsense about braiding hair and stormed out of the place!

_What the heck was wrong with me?_

Why? WHY?

Snape clapped those spidery hands of his together, as per usual, but his silkily said words flew right through me. I think he said, in that quiet voice of his, something to the effect of 'continue torturing yourselves, I cannot be bothered, because I am too busy staring at my hands and thinking of Hermione Granger'.

Something to the effect of that.

Gritting my teeth, I turned to Draco, to find him looking at me, his face expressionless. When my eyes met his silver ones, though, he suddenly smirked.

"Thinking of last night, then?" he said, his eyes flicking down momentarily to settle on my mouth before they fixed themselves upon my eyes again. "Thought you were a bit muddled, you know, after."

"Yeah," I squeaked. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I was. It was a bit, um..." I swallowed. "Unexpected. I mean," I added an unconvincingly blasé snort, "you practically raped me out there."

And also, I was a big idiot. But that needn't be mentioned, because it goes without saying.

His gray eyes gleamed with amusement, and a bit of mockery. He leant back in his chair, watching me with those laughing eyes, and said, "Raping aside, your expression was priceless. You looked like...why, you looked like you'd been kissed! Isn't that strange, Weasley?"

"Having snogged me last night, would it kill you to call me 'Ginny'?"

I resisted the urge to clap a hand over my mouth, and simply stared at Draco. A few strands of silvery blond hair had escaped from his ponytail, falling over a piercing gray eye.

His eyes seemed to harden, darken, but his face remained the same; cool and expressionless.

"I don't know if it would kill me, _Ginny,_" he drawled, his eyes boring into mine, "so why take the risk? For all you know, I may now keel over and choke to death."

"Oh, I don't know," I said bitterly. "I've heard some say that it makes the snogging better to actually know the person's name. It may just be a saying, though. You know how those old sayings are. All of them are so untrue these days..."

I babbled on wearily, and suddenly, Draco had straightened, and he put a large, fine hand on mine, which was clenched on the desk.

For a long moment, he looked at me thoughtfully, his silver eyes roving my face. The eyes suddenly gleamed mischievously. "The whole point of our snogging, Ginevra," he said silkily, "is to make you forget everything. Even your very beautiful name."

He leant back again. "I don't seem to have succeeded in that last night," he said thoughtfully. "Oh, well, There's always a next time."

"There isn't going to _be_ a next time!" I snapped.

"Oh, that has _me_ put neatly in place, hasn't it?" said Draco with a dignified snort. "Save the denial for the Potters and the rotters, Weasley. I don't think I can handle it."

"Oi, Draco!" said a husky, amused voice from behind us. "Watch what Moreno's doing here!"

Draco and I exchanged a loaded glance_—_it thrilled me to my toenails when this happened_—_and turned back, to see...

Oh, horror.

Blaise was grinning widely, the cauldron in front of him smoking, and Drew, who sat beside him, was gawking at him, batting her eyelashes and pouting in an exaggerated way that made her seem like some sort of retarded Barbie doll.

"Looks like the _Addicere Liquidus_ worked," said Blaise with a broad smirk. "Moreno's practically pining after me already. I think she must have snorted some potion in by mistake, you know, when she was being so very cutting and sarcastic before."

I rolled my eyes at Drew, who now pretended to gaze, wide-eyed, at Blaise, and fan herself frantically with her hands.

"Blaise _Zabini_!" moaned Drew. She put a hand to her head dramatically, and stared at him with impassioned eyes. "You make my blood _sing_! You make my heart weep! I feel like I can run through oceans, run through piles of dragon dung, if you are at the other side with wide open arms!"

"You make a good Potion, you two," said Draco, grinning. "I'm surprised you have any left at all. I'd have thought she swam in it."

I raised an eyebrow at Drew, and she winked at me.

"Hold off, love, not so close," said Blaise, warding Drew away airily. "You're drooling over my shirt."

"You are my _addiction_!" Drew hissed, clutching wildly at Blaise's robes. "You're my soulmate, my twin soul, my_ amore_!"

Blaise's slanted black eyes looked swiftly at Drew's hands, clenched against his chest, and to my surprise, he looked a little uncomfortable. He shook off her hands gracefully, assuming a smooth, amused expression.

"All right, now, Moreno, I think we should actually finish something up here. Don't want to be stuck together for too long, after all..."

"Do not scorn me!" cried Drew, looking horrified. "My love, your words hurt me like poison edged arrows! Please me, _love_ me! _Kiss me_!"

And Drew pulled Blaise closer by the shirt, and pressed a smooth kiss onto his lips.

Someone gasped_—_I think it was me, but it could've been Draco, too, because he looked dumbfounded_—_and to my intense surprise, Blaise _blushed._

His smooth, dark skin turned shadowy red, while Drew gave him what appeared to be a searing kiss. Almost compulsively, his hands seemed to reach up to hold her...and she pulled away.

She grinned maniacally at him. "Gotcha."

Blaise said nothing. He stared at her with those eyes, his cheeks still flushed, with an expression of incredulity and...awe.

Drew caught his gaze, and suddenly, her cheeks colored up, too. Her eyes grew smoky, her fingers twitched towards his again, and...

Blaise suddenly snickered.

"It's over so soon, love?" He gave an easy smile, glancing over at her with veiled black eyes. "And I was just warming up. It's you Gryffindors, you're all like this, such a _tease_..."

"Unfortunately for you, Zabini, the potion isn't everlasting," she said with a smirk. "It wears off."

* * *

Draco and I worked in almost companionable silence for a bit, I reading the instructions on the board to him while he did some dicing, and then I did some stirring, and it went on like that for a time.

We hadn't mention what he'd both seen between Drew and Blaise. The only thing Draco had said was, "Well, well, well..."

To which I had murmured, "Who would've thought?"

And then that was that.

I was stirring the cauldron again now mindlessly, thinking of how precisely Draco had chopped up some Bublingum beans some time earlier, his long, beautiful fingers holding the fat purple beans together while the other hand deftly cut into it with a silver knife.

When Draco died, his hands should be chopped off and kept in a museum, as an example and a tribute to how male hands ought to look. It should be part of the educational curriculum for all children, a trip to that museum...

His deep, silky, equally museum-worthy voice interrupted my intelligent musings. "Weasley."

I cocked an eyebrow questioningly at him. He was looking at me intently, frowning slightly. "Last night..."

"Oh, not last night!" I groaned. "Haven't we established _enough_ about last night?"

"Keep quiet," he snapped haughtily. I rolled my eyes, and he said nothing for a moment, before saying finally, "After...before you left...you said 'this is wrong'."

I stiffened, looking at him, holding my breath. Draco's chiseled face was unreadable, but his eyes gazed into mine intensely, piercing silver. "You went on like an idiot about that for a while," he continued softly. "Remember? Then you mentioned something about a dare..."

I searched his face quickly. His eyes were only open, dazzling and intent, staring at me with no other motive clear. I couldn't read anything from his face.

"So?" He raised an eyebrow slightly. "What was all that about? What was so very wrong?"

I gave a nervous laugh, waved my hand dismissively, and nearly knocked over the cauldron. "Oh, nothing," I said airily. "I hardly remember I said that. Did I say that? How stupid of me!"

He looked deeply skeptical. "I didn't _drug_ you last night, Weasley. I think you were remarkably conscious."

I swallowed, gazing at my feet for a bit, and then I turned to him, meeting his gaze with hopefully steady, convincing eyes. "Nothing was wrong," I said gently. "I mean...it just felt that way for a moment. I don't know."

Hah, yeah, that's very philosophical.

His eyes seemed to tighten slightly at my words. "You're very easy to figure out, you know that?" he drawled sarcastically. "You always make such perfect sense. I don't know _how_ you do it."

I shrugged jerkily and settled on stirring the potion vigorously, making some of the thick green liquid slop over the sides. There was a long pause, and then he said again, "Weasley."

He really had to stop doing that. This time, I kind of jumped_—_don't ask me why_—_and nearly fell off my chair.

I turned to him, to find that he was holding out a handsome gold-wrapped little ball to me. I gazed at it dumbly.

"It's called a chocolate, Weasley," he told me helpfully. "It's a rather delectable thing some people like to eat. Care to try it?"

I rolled my eyes and took it from him, glancing around furtively to make sure Snape wasn't looking_—_Snape, by the way, was now standing by the dungeon doorway, staring broodingly at the rusted iron door as if he was considering the pros and cons of banging his head repeatedly on it.

I deftly ripped off the wrapper_—_funnily enough, I was well acquainted with the delightful inventions known as chocolates. This one was a delicious looking sphere of milk chocolate, it's outer layer sprinkled through with nougat and caramel.

"Thanks," I said happily, and popped the whole thing into my mouth. Draco watched amusedly as my mouth realized it couldn't be very comfortable with this, and I chewed furiously to prevent my jaw from snapping.

The chocolate exploded in my mouth, warm and sweet, and I beamed as I munched, still unable to open my mouth, so full that it was.

"Balls this size too big for your mouth, Weasley?" murmured Draco, and I snorted spectacularly.

"How crass," I said thickly.

He smirked. "Eat your chocolate."

It was all over after a minute_—_the 'balls' melted quickly in my mouth, haha, hahahaha, er, _not__—_and I smacked my lips regretfully, glancing at Draco, who was staring at me like I was an extremely interesting spectacle.

His chocolate was still in his hands; he'd just been watching me devour mine.

"This is what I hate most about chocolate," I said, pouting. "It never lasts."

Draco smirked. "You eat it wrong, Weasley."

I bristled_—_who was he trying to teach the technique of eating chocolate? I'd mastered it since birth! "What do you mean, I eat it wrong?"

Looking very amused, Draco said, "Watch."

He twisted off the wrapper, eyes fixed on mine intensely, and he brought the chocolate to his lips slowly.

He took a little bite, a smudge of chocolate coming off onto his lips, and eyes still trained on mine, he ran his tongue lightly across his bottom lip, catching the chocolate there.

He then took a larger bite, and chewed slowly, a small smile twisting his lips.

A bit of the chocolate was melting off the center, and now looking thoughtfully at it, he carefully got the melted part, seeming to almost kiss the chocolate as he ate it.

Oh, dear God.

Draco picked out a nougat bit with his teeth, eyes darkening on mine, and his tongue swirled momentarily on the last bit of chocolate before he popped it into his mouth, and ran his tongue across his lip delicately once more, gazing seriously at me all throughout.

I felt like I might pass out or something.

The bell clanged, all too soon_—_that's how a gorgeous Slytherin enigma of a boy could change things for you_—_and I felt the vibrations of the sound go through me as I stared dumbly at him, wanting, wanting...CHOCOLATE. Lots of it. Lots and lots of chocolate.

As people started to filter slowly out of the classroom, Draco stood up gracefully, gazing at me gravely.

I got to my feet stiffly.

Draco grabbed his bag, and smirked suddenly. Pansy sidled in out of nowhere, and draped herself like used chewing gum at his side.

"That, Weasley," Draco told me, "is how you eat chocolate."

He then proceeded to leave the dungeon with Pansy Parkinson clutching his arm.

* * *

Lavender was talking at me as I clambered into the Common Room that evening, looking around for Drew.

I say talking 'at' me obviously because her words had as much effect on me as watching goldfish mating. That is to say, no effect at all.

"...but you have that _look_ Ginny, and I hate thinking you're not telling me something, after all, we're in the same year now and you should really trust me more..."

I looked around for Drew, spotting her sitting, her back to me, in a chair directly in front of the fire.

"...I mean, _look_ at you! You look a bit like Parvati did after that night she spent in the Restricted Section. Cuddling up with Dean against the evil books, I mean. You've been snogged, I know it, you have to _tell_ me..."

I made my way determinedly towards Drew.

"...come on, it was my dare, anyway, how can you not _tell_ me? It's something to do with Draco Malfoy? Isn't it?" Lavender grabbed my arm suddenly, and stared at me with her large blue eyes imploringly. "Is it?"

"Piss off," I told her pleasantly, before shaking off her arm and going straight to Drew.

"What happened?" I demanded.

Drew looked up at me with tearful eyes. She said nothing.

"Oh, come on, tell me! I saw you get all upset after that letter came this evening! And then you just disappeared! What's going on, Drew?"

Her lips trembled for a moment, her bright blue eyes shimmering with tears.

"Oh, _Ginny_!" she wailed finally. "It's Rocky! It's Rocky, Ginny, he's _sick_, Mum just owled me telling me, and I can't stand it..."

In case you're wondering who Rocky is, I shall tell you: Rocky, who's full name is Edward Rochester, is Drew's beloved pet alligator. He is a dear pet of Drew's, who was lovable cold, steely, beady eyes and rather adorable rows of razor sharp, dagger-like teeth.

You know now why Drew gets along so famously with Hagrid.

"What happened to him?" I asked worriedly, kneeling beside her chair.

"I don't know, Mum didn't say! She said it's some sort of...infection, or something...he's all exhausted and refuses to eat anything, even his favorite raw and bloody Hippogriff livers! I can't bear it, Ginny!" And she put her face in her hands and sobbed.

"I...can't even _see_ him...I can't stand being here, not knowing if Rocky is okay!" She surfaced from her hands and looked around herself in tearful disgust. "And I'm sitting here on this goddamned _carpet_ where Parvati and Dean got it on last night_—_Merlin, I think I can _smell_ them here_—_and I feel like puking, and _Rocky..._"

She looked up at me and swiped at her nose. "I've had him since he was a baby, Gin! I helped him catch his first Tarantula! I've watched his teeth grow!"

I put my arm around her. "There, there," I said bracingly. "I've seen Rocky," unfortunately, "he's a healthy alligator, he'll be fine..."

Drew said nothing for awhile, just giving almighty sniffs and shuddering breaths, eyes streaming.

"Oh, I don't know, Ginny," she said finally, her voice breaking. She looked at me with frantic eyes. "I don't know. If something happens to my Rocky..."

I suddenly thought of her leaning in smoothly to kiss Blaise on the lips, remembered the flush on both their cheeks, earlier today.

...I thought of Draco leaving the dungeon, Pansy at his arm like a leech.

"I don't know either, Drew," I said wearily. "Let's just hope for the best, because ignorance just isn't bliss anymore."

Drew nodded solemnly, and the toe of us wrinkled our noses at the sinister looking carpet, and gazed dully into the fire.

* * *

REVIEWS MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE!

That and reducing global warming. :D


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